The Life of Nana Rose
by quoth-the-pigeon
Summary: A longtime secretary reflects on her time serving the nations over the years. It's enough to say that having Alfred Jones as your boss will lead to more then one entertaining situation. OC.  No parings.
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! I hope you will enjoy this, even though it is narrated by an OC. I do promise there are no parings though. It's only a having a little fun at what being a secretary for Alfred and the Nations might be like. Thanks for reading :)

_Chris

* * *

"Nana Rose, Nana Rose!"

The call bounced off the long corridor and an old woman holding a stack of manila envelopes paused to turn around. Her wizened face contorted to a frown, though her brown eyes sparkled with warmth, and she gazed at her caller. "Feliciano, You're much older then me. Don't call me Nana." Her stern maternal gaze fell away soon and she gave a soft sigh, soon accompanied by a smile. "What can I do for you North Italy?"

"Try this!" He shoved a plate of pasta under her nose and she glanced down at it.

"Felli," she started affectionately, "I can't eat this, not any more with my stomach…"

Italy wagged his head back and forth. "No! I made this especially for you! No garlic or onions, little salt and very little spice!" He smiled and pushed the plate at her again.

Rose's smile softened and she nodded. "I'll meet you for lunch then. But right now I have to give these papers to my boss. Okay?" Her grin faded with the joyous nation's retreat and began to trot down the hall.

It was strange acting so maternally with people she had known her whole life, but she had grown into the role of an old woman while they remained immortal and untouched by time. It had been very hard when in her forties to be around such beautiful people all the time where her body simply started to sag with age.

Now in her seventies, she could care less – more happy to be alive still and still able to move about fit – then anything.

Staring at the halls however made her nostalgic and she paused to look about the ornate walls. She had been only a girl when she had started to work here. A girl who had lost her father, brother and high school sweetheart during World War II. Having only her mother left, Rose had gotten a job as a secretary and had quickly been given the job when they learned how no-nonsense she could be.

The memory came quickly.

* * *

**_December 1945_**

There she was, flattening out her new blue dress she had saved up for, while waiting to meet her new boss. A gentleman wearing a suit dabbed at his forehead and Rose started to wonder how high profile this man was.

"Sir?" She asked in hesitation, "Why am I up for this job? I do appreciate the opportunity, but I'm so new at this."

The man accompanying her gave a long look. "No one else could last the day. You're it."

Oh dear. Rose looked at the ceiling for strength and suddenly a young man strode in, wearing a bomber jacket and reading a paper in his hand.

The man next to her shot up, and Rose stood quickly too, smoothing out her dress quietly. "Mr. Jones," the man in the suit started, "This is Miss Rosemary Hope Williams. She's the new secretary you've been assigned."

At that the young Mr. Jones looked up and smiled at Rose. "Williams, huh?"

"Yes. Mr. Jones," she said as demurely as possible, tilting her head down.

"Okay. Thanks Jack. Follow me Rosy."

_Rosy?_ She bristled slightly at the nickname, but followed anyway – after remembering to give Jack a small curtsy for the opportunity.

While she continued down the hall after the young man, he couldn't have been that much older then her, Rose noticed a burn mark on the other's hand. She frowned at it, but said nothing. So He had also been in the war? She shook her head and then looked up to see the small black door leading to an office.

Office should have been the word, however, it looked like a warzone. File cabinets were open and spewed their contents to the floor, the desks were all covered with books, maps, pens and other such things. Wrappers littered the floor and she had to jump from one patch of carpet to the next to not step on anything. There were even folders hanging from the curtain rods. She stared about her and then studied Jones as he fell before a pile of papers on his desk– all the while still reading the paper in his hand.

Standing in the center of the room for a good minute, Rose finally cleared her throat while pulling at her honey colored hair. "Mr. Jones –"

"Alfred." He cut off and she found herself gazing into impossibly blue eyes.

"Alfred, then," She amended awkwardly and went back to smoothing her dress. "What is it that I should do?"

His face lit up as though suddenly remembering why she was there. "Oh! Yeah, right. Umm." He shuffled through some papers and frowned at them. "Top secret…Top Secret, Confidential, Top Secret…Oh how about…no, that's classified too." He paused and then looked back up to Rose, blue eyes meeting brown. "What's your clearance?"

"As of today? Secret, sir."

"Okay, yeah. Um." He looked at all the documents once more and placed them on the table."

"Do you know the Declaration of Independence?"

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among…"

"Okay, good. Bill of Rights?"

"Of course. Should I recite them?" Rose rubbed her fingers in a twirling fashion, a nervous habit.

"No. That's fine. How do you feel about Communism?"

"Well the idea is good…" She started and saw Alfred's frown start to appear, "But it'll never be attainable. Human greed and self satisfaction will always win over a utopia."

"Capitalism is not human greed."

"I never said it was, sir."

He nodded and looked to where an American flag hung in the corner of the room. "National Anthem?"

"Do I have to sing?" Rose asked in dread.

"Just the first line." Alfred smiled at that.

Taking a deep breath, Rose sang the first bar, wincing when she heard her own voice miss the proper pitch and squeak. Alfred just nodded and waved his hand. "There you go, Top Secret clearance. Now help with the papers?"

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Balking slightly at the sudden clearance grant, Rose tip toed over to the stack of papers Alfred had pointed to and dragged them over to what she assumed was her desk in the corner by the door. She then looked about the room with a frown.

"Mr. Jones, what filing system do you use?"

"Really, call me Alfred. Um, drop anywhere there's space filing system."

Rose tied her hair up into a neat bun and gazed around the room. "Bless my mama" she muttered to herself and tackled the warzone of papers.

* * *

It was at least a week before the room finally looked respectable and neat. In that short time she had learned not only to be fairly casual around Alfred, but also found herself treating him as an equal rather then an employer-employee relationship.

Alfred had left several hours ago for a meeting, or so he claimed, and Rose finally sat down at her neat desk to type up a copy of some notes her new boss had given her. Alfred still asked her to call him by his first name, but if she didn't call him at least boss in her mind, or even Mr. Jones, she knew she would slip and say something inappropriate for her position.

The door opened and she could hear Alfred's voice mumbling. He walked to the desk and still typing diligently, Rose raised her voice. "Mr. Alfred Jones. I do hope you were not planning on dropping those papers on your desk and reverting back to that messy filing system you had." She turned around to see Alfred look up in surprise, but another man who was smaller and had the thickest eyebrows she had ever seen also accompanied him. "Oh." She stood up and gave a small bow. "I didn't realize you had a peer." How embarrassing.

Alfred pushed at his glasses and waved off her gesture. "This is Arthur. Arthur Kirkland." Alfred looked to Arthur who looked back with a quirked brow. "He's my…um…"

"Co-worker?" Rose supplied.

"Yeah! He's a…a representative from England."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir." Rose said and gave a small dip and then sat back at her desk. That is until she heard a shrill scream, followed by: "Kill it! Kill it Artie!"

"Don't call me Artie, git."

By now Rose had turned around, halfway out of her seat to see Alfred nearly jumping into Arthur's arms and trying to get away from the desk as quickly as possible.

"Alfred, sir?" She ventured and then suddenly blanched. Oops.

"Spider!"

"For god's sake! Act like a man Alfred." Arthur dropped him on the floor and glared at him. "It's only a little spider."

"They're blood suckers! How do you know that beady eyed little creep isn't trying to sink his fangs of death in me?"

Rosemary inched towards the desk and pulled at her hair gently. "I forgot I left it in the drawer, sir. I thought you might take care of it since they scare me too."

"Americans." Arthur muttered, grabbing the spider by a leg and flicking it out of the window. "Strange little one too. Never seen one with a red marking like that."

Rose looked out at the window the spider had been tossed from. "That's because it was a black widow."

There was thump and both Arthur and Rose turned to see Alfred fainted on the floor.

All Rose could do was look meekly to Arthur. "Does this mean I'm fired?"


	2. Chapter 2

Well it turns out guys that I do have internet here...so cool. Here is the next chapter for The Life of Nana Rose. I'm so happy you guys are loving it! It's a great relief to me since I know many OC's get a really really bad reputation. Thanks for all the AMAZING reviews!

_Chris

* * *

**_Present Day_**

Groaning slightly from the aches in her hips, Rose came to a pause in front of the same office she had been assigned to for over half a century. The familiar oak grain stared back and Rose's wizened face fell into a frown. She rapt hard on the door and raised her voice to a mild shout. "Alfred Jones I am coming into this office right now so you have better be decent!"

There was a scuffle and a bang right before a muffled shout. "Wait!"

Rose opened the door anyway, heading straight to her desk without looking at what she was sure to be a compromising position on a desk with another nation. "Oh cut it out Alfred. There's nothing I haven't seen before. " It sort of went in part of working with a nation who had the libido of a teenager.

"Jesus Rose, warning next time?" Alfred's voice was annoyed, but it was the same tone a teenager would use when their mother invaded their space.

Rose kept her back to him, tossing the stack of folders with an ease that came from repetition and time. "Sign those papers and go meet your brother in half an hour." She paused to grab a set of blue binders before walking out of the room, keeping her eyes trained on the grey orthopedic shoes she wore and kept her fingers on the metal door handle. "And you better have pants on." She shut the door behind her while hearing a groan of frustration and maybe even embarrassment, causing her to crack an amused smile.

Walking past the door in the carpeted hallway, Arthur paused to look up at her. "Rose. How are you doing?" His smile was familiar and she gave her typical bob of the head for response. She touched her silver hair, a habit she had never broken out of from her youth.

"Well enough. Thank you Arthur." She paused and looked to where America's office was, a few low groans coming out and she shook her head. "Where are you heading to?" She was walking beside the nation now, but knew he had to severely slow down his usual brisk pace to stay by her side.

"Just back to my own office. I made some scones the other day if you wished to join me for some tea today."

Rose turned her warm brown eyes to him. "Oh. I would love to Arthur, but I can't eat like I used to. Part or growing old, I suppose." She paused again and looked to the binders in her arms. "Tea would be lovely though."

"Brilliant." Arthur paused since the hall split and he was heading into another direction. "I'll see you at three then.""

Rose smiled and said goodbye. Inside she was silently cackling that old age had finally given her an escape from the one food that had made her violently ill.

* * *

_**September 1948**_

Sitting in the office with the windows flung open was still as hot as the sun in the dwindling summer heat. Making sure that her honey hair was up in a bun and not touching her neck, Rose continued to read through the transcript of the last UN meeting Alfred had attended– choosing only little pieces to make the final stack of notes that would be kept.

Adjacent to her, Alfred was reading a binder she had given (forced) him– promising if he actually got it done, they could both go home early to escape the hot sticky heat of the city. Rose fanned herself with a set of papers on Soviet military movements, looking longingly for a second at the broken electric fan lying in the corner.

Suddenly, Alfred snapped the folder shut and she looked at him, curious to what he was doing. "Okay. Can you give these papers to Arthur and I'll give these to Francis and then we can get the heck out of here."

"But the notes…" Rose said feebly, feeling more obliged to mention the work still stacked for them then simply agreeing to skedaddle. Alfred simply looked at her and she nodded, taking the green papers without argument and walked out of the office silently. It was even worse in the hall and Rose wondered if it was possible to melt into a giant puddle of goo.

Hoping to take her mind off of the heat, she began to hum one of the tunes she had heard on the radio last night. Not really remembering the words, she sort of made them up and let the soft tune bring back the spring to her step.

"I like that song. It's Frank Sinatra's Day by Day, correct?"

Rose stopped, her mouth immediately falling into a dark and angry frown before she took a stilling breath and looked up into Germany's face.

"It is." She muttered curtly. It took more then will power for her disdain for the nation to show upon her face. It was really the fact that Alfred had specifically asked her to act civilized around him that she was being kind. It really didn't help whenever she was around him she thought of the fact that she no longer had a brother, a father or her love– Rodger.

Germany held out a set of papers to her and she took them gently. "Can you please give those to America?"

A sudden vile thought crossed her mind and she had to bite her tongue for a good second before she was able to nod and reply. "Of course. I have to go now." She shook her head as she walked away. Well now she was in a foul mood.

And apparently from the sound of the swears coming from the communal office kitchen, so was Arthur.

"Whatever is the matter?" Rose asked, sliding into the kitchen with a look of confusion. Then she took a step out seeing it was a flour wonderland…and were those eggs on the ceiling? "Arthur?"

"Blasted oven burned my scones." Arthur was glaring a few black lumps of…something on a plate and Rose carefully made her way into the kitchen– was that blueberry pulp on the wall? She turned in confusion to the English nation and saw how frustrated he looked. "I was trying to show the git how good scones taste."

The 'git 'of course being Alfred, Rose realized and took a scone into her fingers. She examined it for a second and said, "It doesn't look that bad. My mama's made some burned food that was fine when you ate it."

"Really?" Arthur looked up at her with almost hope. "Most of the other idiots here think the food is appalling." He paused to sniff. "Don't know the meaning of good food if you ask me."

Rose then took a bite of the scone, pausing at the strange texture of it. She looked to Arthur and swallowed. Seeing the almost eager look on his face, she took another bite and finished it off.

"How do you like it?"

"Um." Rose paused, licking her lips as she tried to think of the right word. "It would go well with tea."

"Aren't you a sweet girl." Arthur handed her two more and gave a smile. "Take one back to Alfred to show him what's what. That one you can have."

"Oh. Thank you, sir." Rose thought about the scone for another minute and took a bite of it. There was something off about it, but it didn't taste that bad. She handed him the papers and retreated out of the kitchen.

It wasn't until she was back in America's office and she had given him Germany's papers that she felt sick.

"Rose? Are you alright?" Alfred stood up from his desk, blue eyes flashing in concern. Rose held her stomach and was bent over as her stomach warped with pain.

With a groan Rose shooed him away. "It must have been those scones…"

"Arthur's scones? Shoot. I guess I forgot to mention not to eat those….You ate them? Really? You must have the worst taste in history." Alfred was crouching next to her with his hand on her back and suddenly Rose clamped her hand to her mouth.

"Oh god…they didn't taste that bad. I think I'm going to be sick…" She reached the trashcan in the corner of the room right before she retched into it. She ended up sitting there for an hour with Alfred patting her back and mumbling about Arthur's cooking.

When her stomach calmed she looked up at her boss with a deep blush of embarrassment. "Oh dear. I'm so sorry. That was highly unprofessional!" She dipped her head into her hands.

"Jeeze, don't apologize for Arthur's cooking. It can be a weapon of unbelievable destruction." He gave her a smile and pulled her up. "So now you know about the scones."

"What about the scones?" Both Alfred and Rose looked to see Arthur standing by the door. At least the trashcan had been by the window and the room wouldn't smell too bad Rose realized with relief.

"Rose had your cooking. Are you trying to kill my secretary?"

"I was doing no such thing!"

"Don't you know –"

Rose cut him off quickly, not wanting to hurt Arthur's feelings. "I'm allergic to…eggs." She paused and then added, "And blueberries." Blueberries had been in the scones, hadn't they?

Arthur looked to her in surprise. "I didn't realize you had food allergies. I apologize for not telling you. Will you be all right?"

Rose nodded. Well, put that on the list on how to survive having Alfred Jones as your boss… never eat Arthur's cooking.

The thought made her retch again.

* * *

**_Present Day_**

It was a long walk to the kitchens these days, Rose thought to herself. The thought of how she used to almost dance through the halls long ago made her sigh and she finally found herself looking to an eager Italy with a fairly solemn Germany. She smiled t the two, grudges of the past long forgotten, and sat in the chair across from them. "Good Afternoon Ludwig." She gave a soft smile and was pleased to see the small smile returned. She then looked to Italy who pushed a plate in front of her, a blinding smile on his face.

"Oh Italy, this looks wondrous." She inhaled the scent to remember it and started to eat, smiling at the almost one-sided conversation Italy was having with Germany. She thought to herself of the time she had learned how they were all nations, and still had the scar to remember it on her hand. She paused before thinking more about the memory. She was becoming a senile old woman, wasn't she? Always being nostalgic...

"Oh dear…I've become my mama."

* * *

_**January 1946**_

It had been a few weeks since Rose had gotten the job and she still felt overwhelmed most of the time. But the pay was good and Alfred was kind. Actually, he was a little weird, but she kept that to herself.

Currently she was standing next to the window with a black binder in her hands, reading over some of the information about plans to help Poland and some of the terrible things that had happened to the nation. Rose twirled her fingers in her honey colored hair, knowing it was a juvenile habit, but a calming one at the same time.

"What are you reading?"

Rose looked up to see Alfred come in, snow dusting the shoulders of his bomber jacket and navy scarf. "The brief on Poland's condition." She paused and shook her head with a world-weary sigh. "It's all so sad."

Alfred was busying himself with a coffee pot, "Yeah. Poor guy. You should have seen him during the war."

Rose looked up at that in confusion, wondering if he had mumbled and she had misheard him. "Sir?"

Alfred turned to her, confusion written clearly on his face. "What?"

Rose shook her head after a moment, going back to reading the document and turning back to the white world of both print and snow. "Nothing. I thought you called Poland a 'he'."

Cooling off the hot liquid now in his favorite blue cup, Alfred looked at a document in his hand – only half paying attention to Rose. "Yep. He looks like a girl sometimes, right? The first time I met him I thought he was a really strange girl."

Rose looked up from her page, but Alfred was still reading. She knew he was horrible at multitasking, usually botching things up when he tried to, but still…

"We _are _talking about the country, right? Poland?" Rose closed the binder and turned brown eyes directly on Alfred's form.

"Hmm." He hummed in agreement, still reading the paper. "Of course I'm talking about the nation. Have you ever heard of someone named Poland?" He laughed and Rose's face went blank in confusion. "That's too funny."

"Mr. Jones…people can't _be_ a nation. That's impossible." She went to lean against her desk.

Alfred looked up from his paper with clear eyes. "Of course it's not. I am America after all."

Rose missed the desk and stumbled, cutting the back of her hand on the corner. She swore softly, because it was a un-lady like thing to do after all, and took a handkerchief from her skirt pocket to daub the blood. "Alfred, that's ridiculous."

Jones lounged back, kicking his feet up on the desk while surveying her. "Is it?" He waggled his eyebrows.

"Yes," she responded tartly, not one to be made a fool of. "How can that be?"

Alfred frowned looking at her. "Huh. Usually that works."

"What works?"

"The gazing into my eyes thingy. Most people realize instinctually who their nation is."

Rose took a good look at the boy the same age as her. She thought about it for a moment before her eyes widened. "Oh dear. Are you a woman? It matches all the patriotic songs– stand beside _her_ and guide _her_...Lady Liberty…but…" Rose paused as Alfred spluttered, "You look so much like a man…Are you a cross dresser?"

"What? No!" he got up from his desk and started to walk over. "I can guarantee that I am a man."

"Can you?" she muttered to herself

"Yes!"

Rose blanched with horror that he had heard and gave a small cry as he went to unbuckle his pants. "I believe you, I believe you!" She covered her eyes as though someone had tried to throw bleach into them. After a minute she peeked through them and looked hard at (a fully clothed) Alfred.

"So why do they call you a woman all the time?"

"I dunno. Sounds more fun to defend maybe?"

Rose nodded at the point. She then sat in her chair, reapplying the cloth to her cut. " Okay…so you're America." She paused and stared at the floor as she tried to taste the truth in her own words. Rose then looked up and frowned. A test. That is what she would need to believe him. "What happened on October 19, 1781?"

Ame-No. Alfred–Rose had to chide her own mind, stilled for a moment with a conflicted look on his face. He finally looked out the window. "It was the day British Soldiers formally surrendered in Yorktown. Of course it wasn't all official until the Treaty of Paris…but yeah."

The real proof had been in his face and it took a moment for Rose to fully understand what that meant. Alfred interrupted her musings however.

"Oh, and Arthur is England, by the way."

"What?"

"Yep. Pretty much all the people in this building are nations. I actually think you might be the only non-nation here."

"Oh." Rose said weakly.

"What's wrong?" Alfred asked after a moment, looking at her troubled face.

"Um. So talking with Arthur about how America is the best nation in the world since we were able to singlehandedly hold off an naval invasion force unmatched until D-day was a bad idea?"

"Yeah Rose. That was a bad idea."

"Good to know."

* * *

Yay! Chapter two done. I'm really excited for the next chapter because I was laughing to myself while planning it out. Of course now my family thinks I'm insane...but ah well. I'll give you a hint for it though: It happened in 1947 in America. :)

Times will switch back and forth so read years carefully

* Also as a note: I tried to base Rose's anger towards Germany based on the accounts my grandmothers told me they faced coming over here from Germany after the war. Let me tell you, anger is a nasty thing.

THANKS TO ALL REVIEWERS BECAUSE YOU ARE ALL EPIC :

Thanks to **Just another fma fan, LuckyNumbers, PinkPanther123, Chrono-contract, Maelstrom **and** Hikari Kame. **:D


	3. Chapter 3

Hey everyone! So apparently when you have nothing to do, you can get a chapter a day out. Hmmm. Well I just want to thank you all again for the reviews. there all so freaking wicked epic and make me smile since I must read each one like five times. This one is mostly flashbacks.

_Chris

* * *

_**July 1947**_

It was a hot and sticky summer day. It was actually her first day back from a short summer break to celebrate the fourth of July weekend, and Rose was trying to unlock the door to their office while balancing a new memo England had given her and a bag of pastries for Alfred's meeting with France later on in the day.

_How can it be so hot this early in the morning_? Rose wondered to herself, finally hearing the lock give way and pushed the door open while flicking on the lights. A door suddenly slammed shut and Rose whipped around, seeing Alfred standing in front of the supply closet. "Dear lord, you nearly gave me a heat attack Alfred!" She placed the bag of food and papers on her desk while eyeing him. "What are you doing?"

Alfred gave a laugh, something that made Rose slightly suspicious and she took off her hat to place it on the coat rack in the corner. "There's nothing wrong. Nothing in here!" At the word 'here' Alfred gave the supply door a good thump.

Brown eyes narrowed in thought, but then Rose shook her head while going over to her desk. "Did you hear about that incident in New Mexico?" She gave a light snort. "Aliens. How ridiculous." She was about to place in a new ribbon into the typewriter when a flurry of movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Alfred was closing the windows to the room and Rose stared at him as if he were insane.

"Mr. Jones, what on earth are you doing?" She continued to stare at him until he had finished pulling the curtains closed and turned around to her.

"I'm cold."

"Alfred Jones, that is the worst lie I have ever heard," Rose mumbled to herself, but let the lie slide.

Alfred seemed relieved that she didn't ask anything else and went back to working at his desk, which seemed very close to the closet door in her opinion. Allowing herself to fall into the normal routine of work, Rose began to type up a copy of Canada's notes– since Alfred had spilled coffee on his and she couldn't make out a single word– until she heard what sounded like muffled cursing from the closet door.

"Alfred, what was that?"

"My stomach." Rose quirked a brow and her nation looked back with an even gaze.

"Well I have some pastries here, but there really meant for the morning meeting you have later with Francis."

"Oh, damn it. I forgot about that." Alfred pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose while looking sideways at the closet door. Rose didn't miss that and finally turned around.

"What on earth is in that closet?"

"Paper. I didn't think you'd forget that easily Rosy."

Rose stood up at her desk and walked forward, not even heeding Alfred's spluttered warning and opened the door with a crisp swing.

She then screamed as though she was about to be murdered.

Backing away from the door and nearly crashing into a trashcan, she pointed to the closet. "A-Alfred is t-that a…a…a..."

"Er, yeah." Alfred was running his hand through his hair while looking at the clock. "This is Tony. He's the alien that crashed in Roswell a few days ago. Tony, this is Rose, my secretary. Don't eat her."

"W-what?"

"Just kidding! He's harmless." At that Alfred sort of jumped over his desk and rushed to the door. "And now I have to go to that meeting, but no one can know about Tony right now– so keep an eye on him. Thanks Rose!"

He slammed the door close and Rose ran after him, slamming on the door since he had just locked it. "Alfred F. Jones!" she yelled at him, "Unlock this door right now!"

"Sorry! Have to go to the meeting, bye Rose!"

"If I die my ghost will haunt you for five thousand years!" She kicked at the black door, not caring how un-lady like her mama may have found it and shouted once more. "I mean it!"

"Humans, you're all so freaking dramatic."

Rose whipped around, staring at the grey looking little alien with her heart in her throat. Boss or not, she was going to strangle Alfred when he got back…or maybe hide his jacket from him…or maybe fill his desk with spiders.

Rose took another look at Tony, noticing how bright his red eyes were and an interesting thing happened. Apparently when Rose became scared, she went into a default maternal mode. The next thing she was able to do was unhinge herself from the door and pull out some manners.

"Well, you must have had a long journey to Earth, so welcome to America." She cleared her throat and began to inch her way to her desk. "Are you hungry?"

"No." Tony sounded between a mix of boredom and disdain.

"Oh." Well there went that plan. She sat down at her desk, going back to typing. "Well, I do have work so you are welcome to busy yourself around the office." And into her work she went, forgetting for nearly three hours that there was an alien standing behind her. That is until he taped her shoulder and she screamed.

"I'm bored."

Rose clutched the patch of blouse over her heart and waited for it to slow down. "Okay, um…well, what do you want to do?"  
"Games."

"Like card games? …Or are we talking about mind games?"  
Tony moved towards the window. "Card games. " Did he just roll his eyes?

"Oh. Alright." She opened her desk and grabbed a deck of cards. "You can play solitaire, I have to get this report filled out."

Rose watched him set the cards out on Alfred's desk and she went back to her work. It couldn't have been five minutes later until Tony stood in front of her desk again.

"I want to go out."

"Alfred said you can't" Rose frowned and put her pen down. "I think it'll cause more then a few problems."

"I want to go out."

Rose stood up from her desk and placed her hands on either side of her grey skirt. "Well you can't. People will panic if they see an alien."

Again Tony seemed to roll his eyes. "Just dress me up. Freaking humans."

Rose touched her hair and then her forehead. "Oh dear."

* * *

About an hour later, Rose had managed to dress Tony in a few extra clothes she had lying about in case of an emergency. So here Tony was: wearing a pair of Alfred's sunglasses, a purple wide brimmed hat of Roses' and a pink blouse she had belted at his waist for a dress. Of course he was much shorter, so the sleeves dragged on the ground a good inch. She grabbed the mop in the corner of the room and placed it under the hat, giving him white hair.

He looked ridiculous.

"This'll never work" Rose muttered to herself and shook her head. "Besides the door is locked."

"Move." Tony said and so she listened. Rose watched as the door seemed to shimmer and then it disappeared. Tony began to walk outside, the sleeves of the pink blouse trailing behind him.

Rose stared at where the door had been, open mouthed and slightly in shock. "Where did the door go?" she asked in awe.

"Poof."

"Poof" Rose repeated weakly and followed after the small alien, giggling in hysterics.

* * *

When the day was over and Rose had brought Tony back to the office, she finished up her report while the alien played another game of cards.

"Hey…what happened to the door?" Alfred came inside the office, staring between Rose and Tony in trepidation

"Poof." They both said together and Rose looked up at her boss. "How was that meeting?"

"Oh…um. Good."

"That's nice," Rose muttered and went back to reading yet another report.

"Rose?"

"Yes Alfred?"

"Why is Tony dressed up like a woman?"

"He wanted to go outside and that's all I could find."

"Oh."

Rose nodded, still not looking at Alfred until he sat down at his desk. "By the way, Alfred?"

"Yeah?" Alfred looked away from the alien on the floor.

"I'm a ghost. Boo."

Alfred turned as pale as a sheet and was suddenly out of the room with a cry. Rose looked back to the report in her hands and smiled wickedly.

"Maybe I should bake Arthur a cake as a thank you gesture…"

* * *

_**May 1946**_

It was still the first year of working with America and Rose found it very strange how some things would happen in the building. For instance, she was always amazed at how no matter what the conversation was, Francis and England would somehow start a fight. Also Matthew would somehow magically appear out of the shadows, as though he had some strange power of invisibility. There were quirks to every nation, but Rose had never thought about how deep some of them went until she was cleaning their office.

Rose was standing on a chair, dusting the top of the cabinets and began to hum. Alfred looked up from his desk when he realized what she was humming.

"Why are you humming the French national anthem?"

Rose looked down, pausing in her cleaning. "Force of habit, I guess. My mama always sang it when she cleaned."

Alfred had a strange look on his face. "Your family sang national anthems while cleaning?"  
"Only the French one." Rose defended. "My mama was from Paris, I don't really know why she sang that song."

Alfred put down the red binder in his hands and stood up, coming to a stop next to Rose. "You're French?"

While folding the damp rag in half, Rose nodded. "My heritage is half French, from my mama, and half British from my father. " She then looked back down from the chair. "Why?"

"I was just curious, but don't sing national anthems."

"Why not?"  
Alfred placed his hands into his jean pockets, then thought better, and held up a hand to help Rose down. "Well it kinda acts like a patriotic bat call."

Placing the dirty rag with the other cleaning supplies, Rose began to drag the chair back to the corner of the room. "Patriotic bat call?" Rose then took the bandana from her hair and patted it to make sure there were no random strands sticking up.

"Yeah. It depends on the situation…but national anthems usually make us either very proud or aggressive. Sometimes it will actually draw us to the person singing."

"How does that make it a bat call? Sounds more like a dog whistle –"

Alfred frowned at her and she simply smiled, grabbing the broom to sweep a little. It was then that there was a knock at the office door and Alfred yelled a 'come in'.

Lithuania was at the door, looking slightly out of breath and came over to both Alfred and Rose quickly.

"Hey Toris, what's wrong?"

"It's Arthur and Francis, Mr. America. They suddenly got into a really bad fistfight. "

Rose looked to Alfred in surprise and found herself running on Alfred's heels to where Toris shouted the spot they were in. It wasn't until she came to a halt behind her boss that Rose realized she had carried the broom with her.

"Bloody frog, thinking you're so freaking high and mighty."

"Like I would listen to a idiotic Englishman. The sun's set on your empire Angleterre, get over it."

Rose peeked over America's shoulder, seeing both France and England go back to fighting. Canada was trying to hold France back and it looked like Hungary was trying to hold onto Arthur's arm.

"Hey! Cut it out you two." America entered the fray and tried to stop the two nations from fighting each other. Rose couldn't help but wonder if her singing had somehow caused all this.

Even Alfred with his strength couldn't keep the two from going at each other and Rose watched at they continued to exchange both fists and insults, some with enough swears or bite to make even her cringe.

"See," Alfred mumbled to her and she looked up to his blue eyes. "I told you this would happen."

"So it's my fault?" she asked, slightly dismayed and slowly feeling the need to stop it.

"Yeah, probably. They'll stop eventual–"

He was cut off though because Rose, in all her maternal glory, strode forward and cracked the broom over both nation's heads. "Cut it out. Now." Rose said looking between both men's bewildered expressions. "I can't get any paperwork done if you two are fighting."

She then ran away back to the office, face glowing in embarrassment and sat down at her desk to type a paper, cleaning long forgotten.

* * *

_**Present Day**_

Rose walked into the office, heading over to her desk to send an email to Germany about the meeting Alfred had scheduled with him the next day, when she saw a silhouette in the corner.

"Good afternoon Russia," she said with a smile, noting the other nation had placed a sunflower cutting into the penholder on Alfred's desk.

The northern nation simply nodded, looking at Rose with either cold indifference or gentle interest…it was always hard to tell.

"I suppose Alfred should lock his door next time."

Rose hummed and logged into the computer on her desk. "I suppose he should."

* * *

Cool deal, yo! (IDK) Thanks again for all the reviews, you know how to make a girl happy :)

THANK YOU TO ALL THE WICKED EPIC EPIC PEOPLE:

**PrussianAwesomeness, FullmetalShinigami21096, just another fma fan, PinkPanther123, **and** LuckyNumbers** :D

PS. I do look at what you all say, especially for suggestions. Because even though I may be a huge history nerd, there is always something to learn right?

PPS I like the polaroid idea... :) I already have an idea for that. Oh, and I'm not sure when I'll update next. The internet is really really slow here, but I get all your messages on my phone so it's all good.

Thanks again.


	4. Chapter 4

Hey everybody! I'm back home for the moment so I got to write and update this story. It seems from your reviews that a lot of you are looking for some more serious answers, unlike the mindless fluff I was writing before so I will find a nice balance between the two. I already have a good deal of plots planed out, so it should all be good. :) THis chapter is pure past, but the next chapter should deal more with Rose in the present day. Then off to the 1950's! Yay! McCarthy, Cold War, Nukes and TV Dinners...what's not to love?

_Chris

* * *

_**March 1947**_

"Oh Alfred! This place is beautiful!" Rose swung around a lamppost, her face to the heavens and a huge grin on her face.

With a grin on his face, Alfred continued to watch his secretary scurry from once closed shop to another, looking in every window with almost childish awe while getting drenched in the evening rain. "I can't believe you've never been out of the country." He shrugged from under the black umbrella. "I mean, America is the most awesome place in the world…"

"Narcissism isn't a virtue, Mr. Jones," she tutted half-heartedly, still looking at all the foreign interests. "Oh, I wish some of the stores were open." She then went back to Alfred's side, stooping back under the oversized umbrella.

"It's only London." He paused and looked around, eyes glazing in memory. "You should have seen it before the war."

Rose paused in her grinning excitement, taking a closer look at the city. It was evident the destruction the blitz had caused on the town, but signs of rebuilding and growth were more prominent. "I still think it's magical."

"Magical, huh?" Alfred was still looking ahead as they closed in on their hotel. "Arthur would probably agree with you."

"And he'd probably sock you for that pitying tone, Jones," she mumbled

"I do not sound pitying." America gave a snort and Rose smiled. "The old man's tough."

Rose nodded and pulled open the door to the hotel lobby, ignoring the frown she got from her boss for denying his normal chivalrous act. Inside was warm, with a fire crackling within a hearth. She came to a pause when she noticed familiar scowling face sitting in one of the chairs.

"Arthur?" Rose questioned.

Alfred came around and looked at his former caretaker. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at your apartment."

Arthur's frown deepened. "I didn't receive a call saying you had checked in. Your plane landed almost two hours ago! Where the blazes were you?"

"Rosy here wanted to check out your capital." Alfred cracked a grin, "I told her it was obviously not as cool as mine, but she still wanted to see it."

Rose hesitated for a second, not one to make physical contact with her employer, but then tugged at his cuff. "Stop, please." The words were muttered and embarrassed. "I'm sorry for having delayed Alfred for you Arthur," she said this time a little louder, pulling away and giving Alfred a wide berth. "I'm going to check into my room and sleep." She then gave a dip for a curtsy and gave a smile. "Good night gentlemen."

"Night Rose." Alfred said and Arthur merely nodded his head, pulling her nation away to the fire to speak with him.

Rose checked into the hotel, the small case of luggage slowly becoming heavy in her hands and she was happy when the attendant handed her a heavy key. She headed towards the stairs, pausing to look towards where both Arthur and Alfred were speaking in hushed tones. Rose also noted the whisky glass lying by the chair Arthur had just been occupying and she shook her head softly, honey hair bobbing with the motion.

She finally came to her room on the second floor, opened it and smiled at the cozy looking room. There was a bed, a door that looked like it lead to a lavatory and it also looked like a radio sat on the small table next to the wall. When Rose finally placed her luggage on the foot of her bed, she walked over to the window to pry it open, craning her head out to see the lights of London shining with hope for a better future. She sighed, hand coming to a rest on her cheek.

"Oh Rodger, you would have loved it here."

* * *

_**November 1947**_

"Arthur, shouldn't you have your own secretary doing this? I mean, a lot of this information is highly classified."

Rose had to be standing up to her knees in a stack of papers looking in dismay at all the clutter around her. And here she had thought Arthur was an organized fellow. Apparently, he was only so at the office in New York. While Alfred was here in London for a week, meetings and such, she had been directed (kidnapped) into cleaning and organizing Arthur's office.

"Yes, well. It's actually hard to find one."

"No it's not. You're just making an excuse." Rose tackled a desk that had a fine coating of dust on it, glad she had traded in her usual skirt or dress for a pair of trousers. "Arthur, I think this may be worse then Jones' office when I first came."

England looked up from his desk, scowling at the young American who was retying her red bandana. "Well we had to get a lot of documents moved around, they sort of all ended up here." While standing up, the Briton had to jump over the fortress of binders encasing his desk and went to put a completed folder away. "And I was not lying about it being hard to find a secretary. Alfred went through at least twelve girls before landing on you."

That was new and Rose stopped fingering through a pile of confidential war documents to look up. "What do you mean?"

"Most girls swoon and fall in love. Don't listen to a word after that, the daft things. Especially with the war we all just went through, most people are very patriotic." England turned around after closing the cabinet and cocked a brow.

"So what does that mean? I don't love my nation?" Rose was slightly affronted that her patriotism was being questioned. Then she had to pause and realized that she still separated Alfred and America from being the same thing.

Arthur shook his head while rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "No, it just means you're in love with someone else fully. It's like an immunity."

"You make it sound like being a nation is like having the prowess of a snake."

Arthur looked up and gave a smile. "I suppose it is."

Rose went back to being quiet, organizing the documents and tossing out papers even when Arthur would tell her to place it in the folder. She knew she should listen, however, she doubted he needed the same copy of a report on Italian units five times. They settled into silence and Rose sat on the corner of a desk while comparing a report, looking for what she thought was the newer version. After a while she realized it had gotten too quiet and she looked up.

Arthur was sitting back at his desk, rubbing his head and eyes slowly. It looked as though he was about to collapse and Rose stood up, placing the report down carefully. "Arthur," she questioned, "Are you alright?"

"Quite fine, thank you." He then got up to mill about the cluttered office, but not without Rose noticing the small sway in his step.

She picked up her report again and went back to reading, stopping every few minutes to make sure that Arthur was fine. Eventually she convinced herself that he was alright and started to place a folder together, not looking up for a long time until she heard a definite 'thud'.

Shooting out of her chair quickly, she looked about for Arthur's form. "Arthur?" He wasn't in sight and she went leaping though the papers to see where he had disappeared. She found him lying on the ground half buried in a wave of manila folders and unconscious. Rose knelt down beside him, noting how ragged he looked and how ashen his face was. "Arthur!" she tried again, but there was no response. "Oh, please Arthur. Don't die on me!" Checking his wrist for a pulse, she nearly wept at realizing that he was indeed alive and his pulse was healthy.

Rose rushed out of the room, knocking over more then one stack of folders or papers and into the hallway. "Help!" No one came around despite her knocking on a few adjacent doors and she went back inside to try the phone.

Except there was no phone.

"How can the man not have a phone of any kind!" Rose then went back to Arthur's side, noting that he hadn't moved at all. She fretted for a moment, not knowing what was wrong with him or why he had suddenly passed out. Alfred had told her once that human medicine didn't always work on a nation– and even in some cases made them worse. She had to find Alfred she finally decided.

She went back to the floor and pulled Arthur's pliant body up, then hefted him onto her back. She grunted and stumbled– he was a lot heavier then he looked. "Alright Rose," she muttered to herself to keep herself from panicking. "Find Alfred. Just find him. Or someone…"

It took a while to get out of the room and she had to remember to lock the door. When Arthur woke up she was sure she would be chewed out for not protecting all those documents. Walking down the hall slowly, for Arthur was indeed extremely heavy (which was strange since he was very thin and about her same height) she continued to look for some form of life.

No one was showing up though and her frown deepened, realizing she would have to go up the stairs to get to Alfred's office. She jolted Arthur farther up onto her back and pushed the door to the stairs open, taking each step one by one. Once she had nearly fallen backwards and cried out until she regained her footing.

When she did get to the next level, she basically yelled Alfred's name at the top of her lungs. Several heads poked out of their offices, but she ignored them since she saw a familiar form running towards her.

"Alfred!" she called again, this time quieter and with relief.

"Christ, Rose!" He stopped and noticed Arthur on her back. "What happened to him?"

"He just passed out!" She shifted him off her shoulders and watched as Alfred seemingly held the English nation in his grasp as though he weighed as much as a feather. "Is he alright?"

"Let's go to my office, alright? " She trotted after him and wrung her hands, then began pulling on her ponytail in worry. "I thought you were being murdered from that yell."

"Sorry."

"Eh, you had reason." He paused and she opened the door they stood in front of. "Alright Arthur, let's see." America then laid the other man out on the floor of his office and Rose stood by in trepidation. He checked his pulse, then paused to listen to his breath and lifted Arthur's wrist, letting it fall to the floor. Alfred looked up to Rose and smiled. "He's just sleeping."

"What?"

Alfred got up and dusted his trousers off. "Yep. Believe me, it takes a lot to kill one of us off. He's just sleeping since he's going through a lot of reconstruction."

Aperantly Rose's face betrayed that she didn't quite understand, for Alfred patted her shoulder. "Think of it as a body. When it's hurt enough, it has to sleep so it can heal. England went through a lot during the war and reconstructing takes a lot of energy. He just needed sleep and his body finally said enough."

Alfred stooped down after grabbing a blanket from the corner of the room to drape it over the prone nation's body. "Old man probably was working though the past few nights so he could get paper work done. And he calls me an idiot."

Rose watched Alfred for a few more second, digesting the information and then folded her arms. "So he'll be alright?"

"Yep. Good as new." He looked up from the floor and smiled at her.

Rose gave a small smile back and then shook her head. "I'm going to finish his office. Oh, by the way. You have a meeting with Francis at two.

Alfred groaned slightly and Rose nodded resolutely. "You skipped out on the one in New York. You have to go."

"Fine." Alfred stood up from his spot on the floor and then went over to his desk, signing a document with an over dramatic flourish. "If I must."

"You must." She gave a bright smile and left to go back to Arthur's office. A sigh fell out of her lips once she was back into the room, looking at all the papers she had over turned. " Think of England." She muttered to herself and tackled the papers.

* * *

Rose was locking up the room, about to head home for the night when she noticed England walking back towards the office. "Arthur," she said in surprise and shifted the hat on top of her head. "How do you feel?"

Even from the distance it was easy to see the blush that fell onto his face. "Well, thank you." He cleared his throat and Rose slung her purse onto her shoulder. "I apologize for earlier."

"No need. Just get some rest, please. I think I just might pass out if I see you faint again."

"It wont happen again." Arthur paused and then went to open the door. "I just need to grab some paperwork.

Rose cut him off however, barring the door from his touch. "You can't go in there. Alfred said you needed to rest, so no work tonight." When she noticed his look she quickly tacked on, "Alfred's orders." That was a lie, but it couldn't hurt.

"Yes, well I need to get these to the Prime Minister."

"Who is in bed like any sane individual, Arthur." She pulled on his hand and started to lead him down the hall. "It's almost eleven. Go home and drink some warm milk, then off to bed. You shouldn't stress your body like this."

Arthur looked affronted. "I'm not. But I suppose you're right. Goodnight Miss Williams."

"Goodnight Arthur." She smiled and watched him leave, then went up stairs to make sure Alfred had locked his office when he left.

That is, she realized, he should have left. The light was still on from inside and she opened the door to see Alfred passed out on his desk. She rubbed her forehead and gathered the blanket from the chair where Arthur must have left it. "America," she muttered, poking his arm and getting no reaction. Rose gave what felt like another endless sigh and draped it over her boss' frame. If she could barely lift Arthur, how could she lift Alfred?" She found a corner in the room and curled up into it, taking off her hat, gloves and purse while using her coat as a blanket.

Maybe it was a strange notion, but Rose knew that Alfred slept like the dead (she had found out when she had dropped a stack of books and he hadn't even twitched from his nap). There was a very real fear in the pit of her stomach that someone would want to harm her nation and so she remained to keep guard until morning.

* * *

_**September 1947**_

So far it had been a quiet morning in her office and Rose looked about to take note of why. Alfred had been there on the morning for a little and then had dashed away after getting a phone call– some fellow Alfred kept calling Edwin. Rose had managed to get through the paperwork involving the state of the European economy and tucked it into a black folder that was going to be sent to the President later that afternoon. With that work done, she moved about the office, straightening any item Alfred had knocked awry while placing the radio on. _La vie en rose_ began to soothingly seep out from the speakers.

Rose sort of waltzed back to her desk where she began to open a report on US and British relations, when Alfred suddenly burst into the office, so fast that the door slammed into the wall and rebounded into Alfred's face. Rose stared at him in disbelief until he came over to her desk and began to wave a shiny grey thing in front of her nose.

"Rose! Look! Look!" Rose pushed his hand away while looking up into his eyes. "Isn't this awesome! Look!"

"I will once you let me see it." She took the metallic object from his hand and realized it was a camera. She examined it with a critical eye, but could see nothing exceptional about it. "It's a camera," she said bluntly.

He took the camera back. "Not just any camera!" Alfred then took a step back and the flash went off, blinding her for a moment and making her see a myriad of spots.

"Alfred!" she started to chastise until a whirring caught her ear and Alfred placed a plastic square into her hand. Rose squinted at it, seeing only a blank grey film. "This is…exceptional." She then paused. "What is it?"

"Just wait- oh, hold it under the lamp." He guided her wrist until the film was under and she gasped as it suddenly became clear. Of course the photo of her was horrid, but still…

"Alfred! This is so amazing! Instant photographs…how clever."

"I know, right?" Alfred then went over to his desk and she thought she heard a cackle. "Technology is so amazing."

Alfred began to rummage through his drawers and Rose watched him curiously until he pulled out a gun, then she stood up with her binder clutched to her chest in a mixture of confusion and slight trepidation. "What are you doing Jones?" Alfred looked up and he had a glint in those bright sky blue eyes of his.

"Remember that argument Russia and I had the other day?"

Rose raised her eyebrow, "Yes. He wasn't going to show you those documents on soviet military movement and ammunition." She paused, " I don't know why that was an argument, you wouldn't have shown him yours if he had asked."

Waving it off, America walked closer to Rose's desk. "Not important. What is important is now I can go to his office and take instant photos of the document!"

Rose sat on the edge of her desk. "That's crazy! You're going to spy on Russia? Russia? Are you trying to start another war?"

"No, and I'm not going to be in trouble if I don't get caught."

"Alfred F. Jones, that is simply the stupidest thing that has fallen from your mouth at this point."

Alfred frowned. "Well, it's true."

"It doesn't matter if it's true, Ivan will kill you if he finds you skulking about his office. This is ridiculous!"

"Well I wouldn't have to do it if he would just show me the stupid paper."

"Why would he show them to you? They're military secrets."

Alfred then crossed his arms, half glaring down at her. "You're just defending him because you think he's good looking."

Rose's lips thinned and she sat back at her desk. "Well he is. I'm not denying it."

"I don't understand you."

Rose shook her head and watched Alfred stride to the office door, stuffing the gun into his jacket. "Just please don't get shot, maimed, or kidnapped. I'd really hate to explain to Matthew why you missed your three o'clock."

"Will do. Wish me luck!"

Rose watched the door swing shut and she looked to the ceiling. "Oh, Lord. Please watch over my nation." She then went back to reading about trade agreements between Alfred and Arthur.

* * *

About a half hour later, the door banged open again and Rose winced at the loud noise, she turned around, looking away from her typewriter to see Alfred come running in with two photographs in his hand.

"Quick! Hide these!"

"What? Where?" She stood up from the desk and saw Russia's furious face slowly storming towards the office. "Ivan looks mad Alfred."

Alfred's head whipped around and then back to Rose. He paused, his face getting a strange look and before Rose could ask what's wrong, he breathed "Sorry," and his hand went down her shirt.

Rose yelped, pulling back to slap him when he removed his hand and she realized that he had left the photos there. Her face heated to a dark red and she sat back down at her desk, seeing Russia reach the office door.

"Where are they?" Ivan asked calmly, but there was an iciness to his words that made her still.

"Where's what?"

The photographs, America. I saw them." Ivan then walked into the room and Rose tilted her head up. He glanced down, gaze flickering and meeting hers and she waited until he looked back to Alfred to start panicking.

"I think all that vodka's gone to your head. How would I have any photographs, they're not instant you know. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Then you have no problem if I should look around?"

Alfred swept his hand out, "Feel free. Just don't read anything."

Ivan nodded, gaze dark as he started to look about the room. Rose stayed still and quiet, like a rabbit watching a fox. Several times when Russia's back was turned she would flicker her gaze to Alfred, who looked back calmly.

Finally Ivan came to a stop in front of Rose's desk. "Please stand up?"

She nodded, slowly scraping the chair back and standing up. She paused, then moved away from her desk to allow Ivan to search it.

He came across nothing and looked back to Alfred. "It seems as if you were right. I am sorry for the intrusion."

"No problem, big guy." Alfred slapped the other's back and Ivan gave him a smile that sent a shudder down Rose's spine. Ivan walked out of the room, and Rose came to a stop behind Alfred's back as he shut the office door.

"Alfred, sir?"

"Yeah?"

As soon as he turned around she hefted the hardest slap she could administer to his face. She then stormed back to her desk, fishing out the photos and leaving them on her desk. Grabbing her coat and hat, Rose turned to glare at him and noting with conflicted pride at the red mark on his cheek. "I am taking the day off. I will see you tomorrow."

"Alright. Yeah. I probably deserved that." He rubbed at his cheek and adjusted his glasses. "Ow."

"Yes, you did." She then slipped out of the door and fumed away from the office.

* * *

Yep. So there's chapter four everyone! I hope you enjoyed it. Like I said earlier, I've read all your comments and am developing the story. Most of the comments though apply to (in my head) 1950's or 60's on so you should see some more development in character and such. Long chapter is long. D:

OKAY. TIME TO THANK THE WICKED COOL AND EPIC PEOPLE WHO ARE KNOWN AS SUCH:

**PrussianAwesomeness, chrono-contract, FullmetalShinigami21096, lomki22, just another fma fan, PinkPanther123** and **Kinky-Cooral **:D

PS Asian Nations will be joining soon, however I transform into the mighty FAILAUTHOR when I try to write them. I'll get to them. I just need to practice a little more. So yeah...there's been a lot of England, France I'm working on and Matthew has a section during the 1950's...but they're all in my comfort zone. Hmm. Cold war action will be coming too.

PPS THANKS FOR REVIEWING!


	5. Chapter 5

Hello everyone! I hope you are all well. I'm still traveling around, so updating is still erratic. Good thing about being near historic sights is that you think of ideas quickly. :) Sort of jumping into 1950's right away and with all the TV episodes and books I've been reading on McCarthy, I think I'll be dreaming of him soon. You know, he was not a good speaker in my opinion. I think what the senator Margret Smith of Maine said about and against Mccarthyism pretty much sums it up: "_Some of the basic principles of Americanism: The right to criticize; The right to hold unpopular beliefs; The right to protest; The right of independent thought._" You'll be seeing that theme through the next few chapters, so hold on tight 'cause here we go!

_Chris

* * *

_**April 1950**_

For Rose, quiet meant trouble. It went without saying that Alfred was a loud and confident individual, however he was leaning against the wall, gazing out of an open window while smoking a cigarette. Every few minutes, Rose would look up to see nothing changed, seeing him standing in the same position for almost an hour. He finally moved when too much ash had built up and fell onto the floor.

"Ivan has a bomb too."

Rose was looking at the typewriter, staring at the semi worn keys and nodded. "I know." He didn't have to explain anything more then that.

There was a thump and Rose looked up to see Alfred hold his fist against the wall, still looking out into the spring morning. "How did he do it?"

"The same way you did." Rose rolled the paper down and began to type a new line in the report. She stopped after a sentence and turned back to see Alfred gazing at her. "You pulled German scientists, you don't think he was doing the same?"

Alfred turned back to the open window, eyes dark in thought. Rose on the other hand simply decided to stop typing and simply watch Alfred. She turned in her seat, resting her arms on the back of the chair and waited for her boss to continue. There was a clock on her desk that ticked too loud and it made the passing of the time all that more egregious.

"I think there's something else." Alfred crushed the stub of the cigarette into the ash tray on his desk and started walking to the office door. "Come on," he muttered finally, pulling on his familiar bomber jacket.

"Where are we going?" Rose stood up and pushed the chair back into the desk. She went to follow him, then paused, turned around and grabbed her coat, hat and purse. She had to run to catch up to him, and settled into a quick trot along Alfred's side.

"To see Ivan." Alfred craned his neck back when she stopped and waited patiently.

"Why?" She fingered the strap to her yellow clutch and slowly walked back up to Alfred's side. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to talk to him. I need to know some things."

"So why do we have our jackets?" She gestured to her tan coat. "Aren't we going to his office?"

"Nope." And that was all he said. Rose continued to watch him, causing her to almost run into a lamppost when they left the building. They walked across a few blocks, until Alfred turned down a street and entered a small dirty looking bar.

Once inside, Rose realized that Ivan was sitting at the bar table, a glass of what had to be vodka in his hands and talking to a sour looking white haired man.

Alfred came to a seat on Russia's other side, an equally sour look on his face as Ivan turned to look at him. Hanging up her coat on a rack by the door, Rose took a seat at a wooden table behind Alfred, far enough away to create space, but close enough to hear. She placed her clutch on the table and then took off her matching hat. There was a feeling in her stomach that she was going to be here a while.

America and Russia started off with some small talk and it remained that was for an hour. She contemplated for a while about getting a drink until the man sitting next to Russia earlier came to a seat next to her.

"Hey babe, haven't seen you before."

Rose looked at him evenly for a moment. "You're German."

"Prussian, actually." He sounded affronted, but then gave a smile. "Gilbert, you?"

"Rose." She looked over to Alfred to see him angrily pointing at Russia's chest, the other nation looking back impassively as though a fly was threatening him. She looked back to Gilbert.

"Rose? Oh, damn. You're that new chick who works for Al."

Rose nodded, not taking a real interest in the other man and more paying attention to Alfred. Something clicked in her head and she looked back at him sharply. "You're Prussia?"

"The one and only. How awesome is it to be in the presence of the awesome me?"

"Horrifying," Rose muttered and tapped the wooden table.

"Fine. If that's how you want it, then I agree. Rose!"

The young American blonde had to whip her head away from Prussia to look at Alfred. "Yes?"

"How well can you drink?"

"Pardon?"

"I think that was made very clear, da?" Rose looked at Ivan for a moment and then turned to Alfred.

"What is this about?"

With a furious scowl, Alfred looked at Ivan. "He'll talk, but only if you can out drink him." With that, he swiveled in his seat to look over to Rose.

She blinked. "You want me to out drink Russia." Turning wide brown eyes to Russia she looked back at Alfred. "Why can't you do it?"  
"Because it would be no fun, wouldn't you agree?" Ivan was rolling the now empty glass in his hands. Her mind couldn't assess the situation and she found herself looking at Prussia who was watching her in interest. "Will you?" Ivan asked after a moment.

Alfred was watching Rose's face and he stood up. "This is ridiculous. Come on, Rose. Let's get back to the office." Alfred slid off the seat and began to mutter darkly to himself. Rose herself got out of her seat and collected her things, she stopped when she came across Ivan.

In a last minute decision, Rose slid into the seat beside him. "I get to choose the alcohol."

Raising his brow slightly, Ivan nodded. "Agreed."

"Rose, you don't have to do this. There's no way you can out drink Ivan." Alfred came back to her, her tan coat in his hands.

Cracking her fingers and ignoring America, Rose then pushed up the sleeves to her blouse and tapped the bar. "A bottle of grain alcohol please." She watched the bar keeper nod and walk to the back room. She turned back to Alfred whose face was a mixture of too many emotions for her to read. "Have a little faith in your citizen Alfred." She thanked the man when he placed a large bottle of clear liquid in front of her, opening it and giving the bottle a smile.

"I'm telling you, it's not possible. The man drinks vodka like he breaths air." He placed his hand on her shoulder, but she waved it away.

Rose poured the glass nonchalantly, passing one to Ivan and then filled one for herself. "Well this isn't vodka, is it." She then looked at Alfred, meeting his gaze and gave a smile. "Have faith."

She then turned to Ivan with a steely gaze, or what she hoped was one. "I believe it's your game. What are the rules?"

"Drink until one passes out."

"Rose," Alfred started to warn.

"Agreed." She struck out her hand and shook Ivan's, then took the glass and hefted it up. "I'd give some trash talk, but everything is said in action." She then swigged the drink and finished it in a gulp. The alcohol burned her throat angrily and she let out a cough, placing the empty glass on the bar.

Ivan too placed an empty glass down, though his face was slightly contorted.

"Like it?" she asked slyly.

Ivan turned to look at her evenly, though there was now a flicker of either interest or enjoyment there. "It's like drinking gasoline"

"Yes." Rose filled their glasses again, "Much stronger then that water you drink." She smiled at his frown and looked back to Alfred who was watching her carefully, though there was a note of incredulity there. Rose raised her glass to him and then turned back to Russia, once again gulping the liquid down.

It went that way for a while, until she had at least seven glasses when she noticed how her vision was starting to blur. Her hair draped over her face as she pressed it to the cool wood.

"Had enough?" Ivan's voice was slightly airily, and it almost had a giggly quality to it.

"Never." Rose struck the bar with her fist and picked up the newly filled glass, this time sipping at it for a little and then draining it. "I'm going to beat you damn it. I didn't drink this stuff at Christmas for years for nothing." She paused as Ivan finished his drink and watched him fill the now empty glasses. They were starting their second bottle.

"Really Rose, if you think you've had enough, then just say so." Alfred was still standing behind her, and next to Russia, while Prussia had saddled up to her on the other side. Every so often some ridiculous thing would fall out of his mouth and Rose would turn to glare at him.

Downing the drink again, Rose cradled her head in her arms and started to hum the tune her father had once sung heartily with his old friends. "What do you do with a drunken sailor…?" Rose muttered to the tune and then looked back up to Ivan, slurring slightly and pointing at his chest. "You may be as handsome as the devil, Ivan Braginski, but I'm still going to out drink your Russian butt." She then took another gulp of the volatile alcohol, not seeing the startled and amused looks she received.

Two more drinks burned down her throat and she watched with increasing fuzziness as Ivan matched them all. They finally finished the second bottle when Rose Saw Ivan straighten out, as though he had removed all the alcohol from his body and pour another glass. "Do you wish to continue?"

Not even halfway coherent at this point, Rose nodded while mumbling under her breath the sea song. Two arms pulled her pout of the chair and slung her body over their shoulder. "Come on Williams, time to head home."

"No," she moaned out. "I can beat him."

Shifting her body into strong arms, Rose blearily looked up at Alfred's face. "No, you can't. I don't even know why I let you."

Rose mumbled something but in her alcoholic daze decided to agree with her nation, feeling more at peace and safe then she had in a long time, and let him take her away from the bar. When they left, she noted it was nearly dark out and before the door closed she waved 'bye-bye' to the bar tender.

"Where we goin'?" She asked, holding onto the hat Alfred had placed into her fingers.

"You are going home. And that's an order Ms. Rosemary."

She groaned at her full name. "Don' call me that." She closed her eyes though and muttered sourly, "Put me down. I c'n walk. Didn' ev'n win 't ssstupid contest."

"You didn't have to win. I told you that earlier before this whole thing started."

"Meh." And that would be the last thing Rose remembered of that event for the rest of her life, though Alfred would later swear that she had been muttering about commies and handsome men and such.

To this she thoroughly denied.

**_

* * *

Present Day_**

Rose looked about the bar, noting how nothing had changed in over half a century. A glass clunked down beside her and she took it, looking at the butter colored beer. Taking a sip, she looked upwards to her long time drinking pal.

"So… _Nana _Rose." At this Gilbert gave a snicker. "How was work?"

"So you're the one who started that ridiculous title!" Rose muttered sourly, glaring at Prussia. When he laughed, she took a long draught of the beer. "It was fine, you know how it is for working for _nations_ and such."

Gilbert bristled and narrowed his red eyes at her. "Are you saying…"

"That you're not a nation. Yes. You don't exist." Rose took another sip with a grin, noting how potent the beer was while Prussia began to rant about how he was a nation thank you very much and how it was simply that he was too awesome to be considered a nation. Eventually, she patted her silver hair and gave a wizened smile. "Oh, stop talking you daft thing. You've gone senile with age."

"You're one to talk!"

"You had white hair before I did. That makes you old. Such an old man." She patted his white hair while he frowned.

"You're cruel Rose. Very, very cruel." He jerked away from her touch, muttering, and Rose gave a smile that came with age.

"Oh, hush. Every thing I learned in that department came from you." When the pouting– though he would always deny that it was such– did not end, she tapped a wrinkled finger on the table. "If you stop sulking I'll let you into the next meeting."

And that was the magic word for he perked up and started to talk animatedly once again, telling a dirty joke or two that Rose would frown at, and somehow ended up with talking about dating…or the lack of tact the Prussian had in the department.

"No girl is ever going to go out with you if you start with how nice her 'ass' looks." Rose quirked a brow at him, opening a pistachio.

Gilbert frowned, and then that sly look of his came back to his face. "So, Rose–"

"No." She popped the nut into her mouth when Gilbert frowned.

"You don't even know what I was about to say!"

"You've asked me every day since Antonio and Francis put you up to that bet."

"Ah, come on! Help a man protect his reputation. It's just one date."

"For the past sixty years I have been telling you 'no'. Why would that change?" She took another sip of the beer while eyeing him. " Besides, I thought you were already 'the most awesome of any breathing creature in the world'."

"I am."

"Then why do you have to go out with me? I'm almost eighty now."

"Oh come on. You know why."

"Enlighten me again."

Gilbert finished off his beer and ordered another, glaring at her while Rose looked back playfully. "You were supposed to be the easy girl. Damn Francis for betting I couldn't take you out."

"That was Francis' idea?" Rose frowned. "I thought it was Antonio."

"Doesn't matter." He waved his hand. "Come on! You're the only lady who's ever said no."

"What about Hungary?"

"I've dated her."

Rose frowned and shook her head. "No, sorry. Learn to live with disappointment. The day I go out with you is the day Arthur and Francis profess their love in public while staring at each other dreamily."

Gilbert thought bout that for a moment. "So that's a no."

"That's a really big no."

_**

* * *

December 1951**_

While walking up the stairs with the parcel from the white house for Alfred, Rose noticed that her boss was talking to an older, slightly round man. She hurried forward when she recognized who exactly the man was.

"Senator McCarthy!" She began in a chastising voice, " I thought I had you scheduled for a meeting tomorrow.

The Wisconsin senator, quickly gaining fame and a devout following, turned to her with a frown. "Ah, Ms. Williams. I thought as much. I was just talking to young Jones here since you keep delaying my meeting. I wanted to be sure another 'sudden' meeting didn't spring up."

Alfred turned a disapproving stare in her direction at those words, but she ignored them and continued to match the senator's gaze. "Yes, well I'm not exaggerating when I say that Mr. Jones has a meeting in about five minutes that he has not yet prepared for." Rose shifted the package in her hands and then gave it to Alfred. "From the White House. Mrs. Truman sends her wishes."

At that Alfred's face lit up and he took the brown paper covered box. "Awesome! Well McCarthy, Rosy here was telling the truth when she said I have a meeting. Sorry, but I have to go. I'll talk to you another time, just set up a meeting with Rose." And with that she watched the bomber jacket clad man sprint off.

Rose then quickly rounded on the senator. "I realize that Mr. Jones is very personable, however, that does not mean you may enter these premises' without having a meeting."

The senator looked scandalized. "Why should I have to set a meeting with an aide? That seems a little ridiculous Ms. Williams, unless there is something else going on around here that you are trying to keep me away from?"

"No, sir. There's nothing but my work to which I must return to. If he's only an aide, why do you want to speak with him so much?"

"I find the lad highly interesting, a true American. You don't happen to have a problem with that, correct?"

Rose gritted her teeth, "No. As much as I would love to chat with you senator, I do have other duties to perform. I trust you know the way out?" When he simply looked at her she turned away. "Good day, sir."

Now Rose understood the general consensus of the population found McCarthy and his anti communist sentiments as helping the country, but Rose saw the other side of everything. She was perhaps in the small percent who did not agree with his tactics, the smearing of names without any concrete evidence. It was more evident with the mood swings Alfred was getting.

He was turning the nation of free speech and liberty to a world where one had to hide their opinion and become part of a singular unit.

Rose shook her head, planning to talk to America later when she bumped into another man's frame.

"I'm so sorry!" she started, backing away. "I wasn't paying attention…" Rose trailed off, looking up into violet eyes.

"It's fine." Russia looked down and gave a smile.

Rose suppressed a shivered and it had nothing to do with fear. She then remembered the fact that she had to hand him some papers. "Oh, would you mind following me to Alfred's office? I forgot I had a few documents to give you." She paused and rubbed her fingers in a twirling fashion. "Or would you rather I deliver them to your office?"

Russia nodded. "That would be better. I'll be expecting you then."

"A-Alright." Rose watched him walk away, scarf trailing behind and she turned back to go to the office. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the door to the stairwell was swinging shut.

* * *

So I'm almost done on the next chapter, and I'm slightly nervous about it. I'll be excited to see what you all think. :)

Here's a hint for the next chapter: _America's greatest pastime_

OKAY. NOW THAT IS OUT OF THE WAY. I WANT TO THANK THE AWESOME WICKED EPIC AND NICE PEOPLE WHO ARE KNOWN AS SUCH:

**FullmetalShinigami21096, cross-over-lover232, Kinky-Cooral, Chrono-contract, LuckyNumbers, Just another fma fan (who I greatly thank for all of your very constructive reviews), and PinkPanther123 **:D

PS THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS

PPS Hint number two. Alfred lives currently in New York, Rose grew up in Maine. :)


	6. Chapter 6

Hey everyone! I hope all of you are well. I would have posted this earlier if I hadn't been stuck at the airport for four hours for my plane. :( Instead, take my offering of the chapter I am still unsure of. Not as lighthearted as I wanted, but alas– it is such.

_Chris

_**

* * *

May 1950**_

"You need to make some babies."

Rose stopped typing, and turned around to look at Alfred. "Excuse me?"  
"Everyone's having kids!" He frowned at her. "All the other girls are getting married and having kids, they're calling it the baby boom."

Rose returned to typing, a grimace painted on her face. She didn't bother to reply.

Alfred however continued. "You can't even say that it's that you don't like kids, you coo and light up every time you see one."

"I'm not interested."

"What? Why not?"

Rose stopped her work and picked up a wooden frame on her desk. She then turned around and showed it to Alfred. "You see this man? This was then person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. He died." She then sat down at her desk and placed it in the corner. "End of story, so please. Leave it alone."

There was silence in the office for a while. "So you'll spend your life alone?"

She sat quietly, not looking at her boss and rubbed her brow. "Maybe. At least you wont have to worry about maternity leave with me." She gave a flat laugh.

A hand fell on her shoulder and she looked up at Alfred's face. He looked sad and it was almost as she could feel the remorse traveling through his touch. "I'm sorry."

Brown eyes met blue and then looked down. Rose continued on typing. "It's not your fault. Don't apologize."

Things felt solemn for the rest of the day.

_**

* * *

June 1950**_

"Rose!"

The young secretary turned around, looking around to see Alfred standing in the doorway. "What are you wearing?" She stared at him with her mouth slightly agape.

He frowned, looking down at his clothes. "Hiking gear."

"And why are you wearing hiking gear?" She placed her folder down, knowing it was hopeless to keep working.

"We're going on a camping trip!"

Rose looked up at her boss, him now looking younger then her, and shook her head. "No we are not."

"Aw, what? Come on!"

"Okay. I'll bite. Who is coming along?"

"Oh you know," at this Alfred walked over, sitting on the edge of her desk while fishing out a chocolate bar from his front pocket. "Arthur, Francis, Matthew…Ivan."

"I thought you hated Russia."

"What? Psh, no. He was part of the Alliance."

Rose raised her left eyebrow in incredulity. She watched him munch on the candy, blue eyes looking down in curiosity. She then turned back to her typewriter, going back to her usual movements. "Pushing Russia down a mountain will not make him will not make him stop being Comunist."

"Oh come on! I was not thinking that."

"And making it look like a bear accident is not okay."

"…"

She turned back with a sly grin. "I got it right, didn't I?"

Alfred got up and walked away. "I don't like you sometimes."

Rose simply laughed.

* * *

_**August 1950**_

"Go Red Sox's!" Roe yelled, pumping her fist into the air and ignoring the dirty looks she received from a few men surrounding her. She sat back down, grinning and staring intently at the man up to bat.

"He's gonna strike out." Alfred teased and shoveled the reminder of his hotdog down his throat. Rose gave him a moment to look repulsed, and then back to the game.

"I cannot believe you're a Yankees fan." She folded her arms and watched with a groan as the batter got his first strike. "Of all the teams in the nation…it couldn't have been the Dodgers…or even the Mets! No. It had to be the freaking Yankees."

"Hey girlie, you're on hollow grounds here. Watch your tongue," an elder man said as he turned around, a plump woman by his side matching his frown.

There was a second of impulse where Rose wanted to stick her tongue out childishly, but she repressed it to instead throw a piece of popcorn at Alfred's head.

He brushed it away as the batter got his second strike. "Don't be sour just 'cause our team is better than yours."

She scoffed, honey hair bouncing as she turned away, but still watched the game. "I take offence to that. As if the Yankees could ever match the greatness that is the Boston Red Sox."

"Admit it. You've no hope since you sold Babe."

Rose clawed at the air and then glared at Alfred when the batter struck out, glaring at his nearly mocking grin. " I swear to god if you say 'I told you so'…"

He managed to look affronted and Rose turned away to see another come up to batter, first and second base loaded still. "I wasn't going to."

She hummed, watching as the Yankees' pitcher swung forward quickly and snapped the ball towards her Sox's pitcher. Alfred was mumbling about something, and she ignored it since the ball and bat made a definite clack. Halfway out of her seat, she realized it was a ball. She frowned and turned back to her boss.

He gave a grin and went back to watching the game, hollering for his team.

"It's rare to see a pretty lady so into the game."

Rose turned to see a dapper young man, a grin as star like as Alfred's and eyes the color of new leaves, gaze at her.

"Anybody who's anybody knows something about baseball," Rose said, giving a soft smile. She looked back–hearing the crack of wood meeting the ball and had to bite her tongue, seeing the ball was a foul.

"Yes, but there's a difference between knowing and loving." The man smiled and tipped his hat to her. "Frank O'Malley, nice to meet you."

Rose wasn't looking at him, but shook his hand anyway. Halfway through she got up and cheered as the ball went out…out…and was a home run. She laughed in glee and smirked at Alfred who gave a challenging glare. Suddenly remembering that the young man had been trying to introduce himself and how rude she had been, she properly blushed and apologized.

"I'm terribly sorry. My name is Rose Williams. How do you do?"

Frank gave another grin. "Swell. You here with…your younger brother?"

Rose looked to Alfred who was still watching the game, apparently oblivious to the fact that Rose was in a conversation with another man. "Oh, um. No. That's a good friend of mine."

"I see. Well, darn."

"What is it?"

"I hope you don't find this selfish of me, but I was hoping he was your brother."

"And why is that." She pushed a lost strand of hair back and looked at the stranger curiously.

"Well, He has to be your boyfriend, you're too pretty for him to be anything else. And I was sort 'a hopin' you'd be interested in a date."

Rose tilted her head, looking at Frank in a newer light. She gave a sad smile. "I'm afraid–"

"That Tuesday is no good. Going out to dinner then with your boss for that meeting. She's free Wednesday." Alfred was leaning over Rose so she had to push back into the seat, glaring at her nation as he meddled.

"I'm not –"

"I'm happy to hear. Is 6 at Redicci's alright?"

"Yep! She'll be there."

Frank gave a smile to match his dapper look and Rose swallowed away the heat coiling in the pit of her abdomen. He then stood up and started to walk away.

"Wait, weren't you sitting there?"

He turned around and tapped at his hat. "Oh no, I was up in the bleachers. I just wanted to ask you out." Rose was at a loss of words and he waved, trailing back to the highest part of the stadium. She turned back into her seat and stared out into the field for a minute. Then, slowly, she turned with venom leaking from every facet to glower at Alfred.

"Go out. Have fun. All you do is work." Alfred matched her frown when she didn't stop the murderous aura. "All the girls are going out and living a little. It doesn't have to be anything serious. Just go out." He popped a peanut into his mouth. "There's more to life then just working. Oh, that's an order by the way. You're not getting out of this."

Rose continued her glower and all Alfred did was give a cheeky grin before watching the game once more. "I knew I couldn't trust a Yankees fan." Rose tipped the rest of her popcorn over his head. Alfred just shrugged and started to eat the kernels that had fallen all over him. She folded her arms and realized something important after two minutes of watching the next inning.

"Oh god, he asked if I was your _older_ sister."

* * *

That Wednesday night, Rose stood by the door to the offices, pacing about inside to gather the courage to actually get to the meeting place. Alfred was tapping his foot a few feet away and Arthur and Francis (who had found out what was going on and were here for the inevitable interest) sat bored on the steps of the stairs.

"Just go! At this rate he thinks you're leaving him in the dust."

"I have thirty minutes until 6, Jones, so shut your trap." Rose's pace didn't falter, though she caught the amused grin Arthur had from the snaps.

"Can you two not see that she is nervous?"

She looked up to see Francis gazing at both Arthur and Alfred with a frown. "Love is not to be rushed," he continued after a pause, ignoring the squawk at 'love' Rose gave.

"This isn't about love," She pointed out, glaring at all three nations. "I'm not interested in Frank."

"You're going." Alfred crossed his Arms.

"Why?" Rose snapped, stopping to face the door.

"Because you're young and you have your whole life ahead of you. Frank didn't seem all that bad."

Rose rubbed at their fingers and then started to pull at her hair. "The last time I was on a date was 1942." She paused at the silence and wailed, "I'm going to make a fool of myself!"

"No, you wont." Arthur said, but there was a grin on his face that clearly said he was enjoying all of this.

"1942? You haven't gone out since 1942?" Alfred folded his arms.

Rose shook her head and checked her watch. Twenty minutes before she had to be there. "I was dating Rodger then. He went off to war shortly after, and, well…that's all." Another pause of silence and Rose's heels clicked out a tattoo against the stone of the lobby.

She felt a hand grasp her arm and she saw France giving her a wary smile. "Come along then, we can't have you late. We'll all talk about it on the way there."

He was halfway pushing her out the door, and Rose began to blabber vehemently against it. Arthur and Alfred followed behind, Arthur looking more and more amused. Rose tried making a few excuses, but Francis would hear none of it. As they walked out into the cool summer air, she turned around to frown at Alfred.

He caught her look and gave her a thumb's up; "You'll thank me for this later."

"I doubt it."

"Aw, I'm jus' tryin' ta look out for ya." Rose had to hide a giggle as Arthur shot the American a glower for the atrocious butchering of his language. Alfred looked to England with his trademark Hollywood smile.

"Now, just remember that–"

"You have better not be giving her sex advice, frog." Arthur said.

Francis snapped his head back to glare at England. "I was doing no such thing, you seem to be having your mind stuck in the gutter." When Arthur was spluttering (in a way that reminded Rose very much of Alfred), Francis hooked his arm with Rose and continued to lead her through the crowds of New York City. "As I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted." Another squawk from Arthur, "You must be yourself, for the boy is most likely the one terrified. Remember to smile, but not too much or you loose the mystique of being a woman. Tilt your head to show off those cheekbones of yours if there is candle light." On he went, pointing out little things to do, and Rose remained as quiet as if she were walking to a hanging.

"Ah yes," Francis said after Alfred quipped in that she needed to not try to strangle anyone and be patriotic, "you must be light on your feet."

"What?"

Francis paused to look down at her, the lights of a neon sign near by casting his face into a hue of red. "For dancing." When Rose just looked at him horrified, he added, "You can dance, can't you?"

"I most certainly cannot!" The panic started to rise and Rose swung out of his grip to turn around and run, only to be caught by Alfred and Arthur. "No! I can't! I wont! I shan't!"

Arthur was holding her wrist and sighed. He raised a brow and looked into her startled brown eyes. "Can you take a step back and one to the side?"

"Yes."

"Then you can waltz."

She looked to Alfred and then back to Arthur. " No, I don't think you get it. I broke someone's foot the last time I danced."

"If anyone can teach you how to dance, it's me." Arthur then lifted her hand up and wrapped his other arm around her waist. He ignored the people walking by and their curious looks as he started to move her stiff body back. "There. Take a step back. Now move that foot to the side." When her foot didn't move, he sort of kicked it into place. "Now meet it. There. Now you can waltz."

"I think you over estimate my abilities," she muttered sourly.

Arthur shook his head and continued to move her back wards, slowly picking up the pace until she had found a rhythm– even if she had to count it out under her breath. Of course, once Rose had found a rhythm, he had to destroy it by spinning her around gracefully. At that she stumbled and stepped on his foot.

"Sorry! Sorry." She apologized and pulled away, seeing Arthur's wince.

"Well you're definitely American."

Both Rose and Alfred asked at the same time, "What does that mean?"

"You have feet made of lead. Now go on, shoo. You have a date waiting."

As Alfred turned on Arthur to snap how many dancers that he had– George Astir and Ginger Rodgers for one– Francis had started to pull her around the corner to where a softly lit restaurant was waiting.

"You'll do fine. The French in you will take care of it." With a wink at her open mouth, he gave a push to the front doors and then walked back around the corner. Rose petted her hair and entered the restaurant. Looking about a little and finally saw Frank waving to her from a small cloth covered table.

* * *

Rose stood outside of her apartment, Frank holding the bouquet of flowers he had given her as she unlocked her door. She took them back graciously and watched the dashing young man for a moment. She had found out that he had been in the Navy during the war, fighting against the Japanese during the Battle of Midway. Originally from Ireland and moving to the states when he was five, he was from California, but had moved to New York to take care of his widowed sister. Frank worked as a lawyer, his favorite color was green, and was just as bad of a dancer as Rose.

"Thank you for a wonderful night. I hope you don't have a limp tomorrow."

"Naw, don't worry about it." He rotated his foot for good measure and she laughed. "Can I see you again?"

Rose thought about that for a moment, but then nodded. "I'd like that."

Frank hesitated, then gave her a peck on the cheek before walking away and down the hall. Rose retired to her apartment, looking down at the mixture of daisies, forget-me-nots and tulips. She gave a smile at them and placed them into a small cup and went to bed.

The next morning, Rose was at the office late due to traffic. As soon as she was inside the door, two arms grabbed her and hugged her tightly. She was placed down quickly and she looked at Alfred slightly frazzled. "What on earth–"

"You're never late and since you went out last night I thought something might have happened to you but then I realized I would have noticed since I'm your nation and all but I still thought that you might be hurt, but I –"

She waved her hands and looked at Alfred. "I don't speak that fast Mr. Jones, sir." Placing a small bunch of the flowers into a vase at her desk, she turned around to Alfred. "I'm fine, there was a lot of traffic today. Frank didn't hurt me, and need I remind you that you were the one who set me up with him?"

"I know."

"Alright then." Rose placed her hands on her hips and taped her foot twice. "Well, what are you waiting for? We have a long day ahead of us. You have a meeting with the President, and no you can't wear that." She heard the usual whine come from America at the thought of having to wear a suit and she pointed a folder at him. "You made me go on a date, you must wear a suit."

"But you had fun right?" Alfred took the folder and grinned at her ruffled look. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Oh, hush. You're too full of yourself."

Alfred laughed at that and ran away before she could pile on more work and drag him to get a suit.

* * *

_**December 1951**_

"What were you talking about with him?"

Alfred looked up as Rose leaned against the door to their office, barring it closed and tucking a loose stand of golden hair behind her right ear. She waited patiently as Alfred looked back down, signing a document and then placed it to the side with a quiet sigh.

"To be honest Rose, it's not really something you need to know."

She didn't move, but looked down to the carpeted floor. Taking a deep breath, Rose brought her eyes up to become challenging. "You trust me with military secrets, but you wont tell me what a Senator is saying to you?"

"Maybe I don't trust you anymore."

The silence was palpable and Rose grit her teeth. "Is that so."

Alfred took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. He then looked back up at her. "No, sorry. That was uncalled for."

Pausing before walking over to rub at her fingers, she tapped at her forearms. "I get it, I really do. You have to protect democracy…that need to protect freedom…we wouldn't be in Korea if there were something else. However," at this Rose turned to go back to her desk, "you should know that I wouldn't hurt you in any manner. So I really don't appreciate the sudden paranoia directed at me." She was miffed and sat down.

America didn't say anything and she continued to type. For the last few weeks, Alfred had been a mixture between exhilaration– a new booming economy and a golden age for him, and then complete stress– from the new war and Communist hunt. Every time Rose had to even glance at Russia or China it was like some Communist radar went up and it was 'unending question hour' for Rose.

It also wasn't really helping the fact that she had just undergone a government loyalty test. She had come out clear, but there was that awful taste still left over from it all.

"I'm sorry. I do trust you." A long pause with a rustle of papers. "So are we still on for lunch?" Rose looked over at him, letting out a puff of air that may have given her a slight chipmunk look.

"Yeah. We're still on." She looked down and continued her report.

* * *

_**January 1952**_

Rose sat on her couch, reading the newspaper with a hint of boredom. One of the perks of working for Alfred meant that she learned of new information before most people. What she was more interested in was the articles on Senator McCarthy's latest speech or how a new star was blacklisted for their views.

It was starting to worry Rose the sway the senator had on America, she would see him always visiting Alfred, talking to him in private. Normally Rose was allowed into any conversation, and it was a right she had taken for granted until McCarthy told Alfred to stop allowing her to hear their words. Alfred's outward appearance hadn't changed, but Rose just couldn't shake off a feeling that Alfred was being changed by the Red Scare– by the words all of the anti communists sprayed to one another.

Rose looked up when a knock came from her door, and she paused in surprise. It was fairly late at night for any visitors and the only person who would do so was Alfred. She got up, pulling on her robe and folding the paper as she walked to the door. "Alfred, it's too late to be visiting. That's what the phone–"

She stopped when she opened the door, the rest of her words dying quickly in her mouth. Two men suited in black stood before her.

"Ms. Rosemary H. Williams?"

"Yes?" she replied, tucking her hair back.

"You are under arrest for acts of espionage against the United States of America."

* * *

OH NOES! A clif hanger! Ahh! It had to be done. Sorry.

IN OTHER NEWS: I SAW A GUY IN AN ISISH STEP DANCING SHOW WHO LOOKED EXACTLY LIKE RUSSIA. WITH A SCARF. AND A PIPE. BUT HE DANCED AND SANG.

This equals:

A) Fangirling like no other

B) The Apocolypse.

C) Entrance to insane asylum

OKAY. NOW THAT IS OUT OF THE WAY I NEED TO THANK THE WICKED FREAKING COOL AND EPIC PEOPLE WHO ARE KNOWN AS SUCH:

**PrussianAwesomeness, PinkPanther123, FullmetalShinigami21096, cross-over-lover232, LuckyNumbers, alabaster-demon, rultas, Tea-PartyCrasher** (X5 for all the chapters), and **just another fma fan** :D

PS I feel like the 1950's was a hard place to live, so that's why these are a little more somber in tone. I however have one more somber story and then more fluffy goodness. Yay!

PPS Do ya'll like Frank? I question to keep him or not. Hmmmmmmmm. Oh Nana Rose.

PPPS THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS!

A hint for the waiting of the next chapter:_ A note is left on Rose's door._


	7. Chapter 7

Hello everyone! Sorry I'm late! Moved into my dorm, started classes...oh yeah, broke my hand. That was fun. *sigh* Anyway, sorry again for the delay. I have been slowly typing this with one hand, so please excuse the horrible spelling errors I'm sure are lurking in there. When I get full two hand capacity I'll go fix it. Also as an addition, sorry for the sadness that is this chapter...I really don't want Rose to become a little angsty world warping Mary Sue, so I did try hard. D:

Hokay.

So note story didn't make it in, moved it to the 60's. more fluff coming.

_Chris

* * *

_**January 1952**_

Rose stared at the concrete floor, not comprehending that she was in fact being charged for crimes against America. Where on earth had that come from? In the back of her mind, the word McCarthy rolled like oil and made her feel sick. And then she had to realize that if she was being arrested and charged for these ridiculous claims, shouldn't Alfred know? Did he believe that she was trying to go against him?

It hadn't been that long ago she had undergone a 'loyalty test', a hearing to make sure that she was not in fact communist, or socializing with communists. Which of course was impossible since she pretty much had to interact with Ivan or Yao on a daily basis. In the end she had been fed up by the seven and a half hour grilling and had said in summary "What do you want me to do? Not my job? Well I have to go." In hindsight, that short-tempered answer and growl had not been in her favor.

A set of footsteps echoed down the hall and Rose turned her head from the holding cell to see Canada halfway escorted by a guard, then after a short talk, he finally ended up to her cell alone. "Matthew," Rose said quietly, "What are you doing here?" She paused and then tilted her head, "How did you get in here?"

"Apparently Alfred wrote me in as one of your kin, in case of emergency." Matthew's lavender colored eyes flickered over her face and then down the hall he had just come from. "I heard you're being charged for espionage."

"Yes." Rose didn't even say she was innocent. If Alfred thought she was guilty, surely Matthew did too. After all, he was having his own communism scare in his country. "Does Alfred know I'm here?" She questioned.

"No."

Rose looked up surprised, having the answer to be that he had set her to the charge. Matthew explained when he noted her evident shock.

"Well, Sort of. Alfred, our Alfred doesn't. But Alfred does." Matthew adjusted his glasses, then paused and took them off to clean them. "Does that make sense?"

"I suppose so." In some way it did. And yet another part of Rose's mind that was not at all remaining calm was furious at the vagueness of it. "Am I going to be killed?"

Matthew looked shocked and slipped his glasses back on, wide eyes becoming even wider with the glass. " No! Why would you ask?" Rose sat against the stone wall, crossing her arms over her drawn up legs and gave a shrug. Matthew was silent for a moment longer, watching her and waiting for an answer until he gave up. "Look, I'm going to go talk to Alfred right now. I know you're not guilty of anything. Just, " At that he paused and shifted slightly, "keep your spirits up. You'll be out soon."

Rose glanced up at him and shook her head. "I just can't get over the fact that he doesn't trust me."

Matthew sighed again, pulling his head down. "It's like this Rose, Alfred as a person trusts you dearly, he wouldn't have hired you in the first place if that wasn't the case. However, Alfred, the part that makes him a nation, is following McCarthy's every word. And he doesn't like you. Even I know that. "

Rose thought about that for a moment and then stood up, smoothing out her dress. "I'll be waiting then, Matt."

Matthew smiled. "I'll come back, alright?"

"Alright."

* * *

_**January 1952**_

Rose blinked awake, looking at the fluorescent lights of the ceiling above her cot. She had not been formally charged yet, just held for questionings and so was still in the same clothes she had changed into the night she had been brought here. What perhaps was the most frustrating thing out of all of this was that when asking just what information was being held against her, no one could tell her since it was of too high a clearance.

A clearance that Rose was going to strangle Alfred for not formally declaring she had.

But she was still sitting there, blinking at the light and then rolled over, pulling at the long skirt over her stoked feet. The guard sitting at the desk nearby looked over to her at hearing the rustle of her movement.

"Nice nap?" He asked, tone mixed between boredom and amusement.

She patted down her hair, feet crossed under the frame of the steel cot. "Yes. What time is it? Or is that confidential?"

The man chuckled slightly, the low tone carrying over softly in the silent and empty row of cells. "It's about two, Mam."

Brown eyes traced the brushed pattern of the concrete in the floor. It could be worse. That's what she kept telling herself. She could be in a country where she had no rights. Or a lawyer. Heck, all arrests were announced publically–there were no secret police. So it could be a lot worse. There was a nagging voice in the back of her skull that whispered what if…

What if her crime was thought to be so bad her rights were waived?

A small tired groan fell past her lips and Rose ground the heels of her palms into her eyes. What had she done to deserve all of this?

"Williams! You have visitors. Special clearance apparently." At this the guard muttered to himself, letting the grey phone at his desk fall down with a click. He bustled to the side and then came back to his seat.

Sitting up a little straighter, she looked to the guard for more information, and when she got none she looked to the wall across from her.

The tapping of feet echoed around and Rose looked to the ground, getting up and being prepared to be lead to where she would be able to talk to her visitors. Well, that would have been the case had she not seen Arthur looking back at her.

"What are you doing here?" she hoped that her question hadn't dripped with the hope that rushed through her mind.

Arthur looked to her and then to the guard. "Do you need to see my ID?"

"Yeah." He got up and took the two small badges that Arthur proffered and looked at them. "Alright. Here you go Mr. Butler. Mrs. Butler."

Rose looked sharply at that. "Butler?"

"How are you, dear cousin Rose?" Arthur's green eyes flickered at her and then Rose looked to his side. She had to bite her tongue as she notice Tony was dressed up in a similar get up she had garbed him in the first time they had met. Confused, Rose looked back to Arthur– whose face was as if his toes were being stepped on.

"Cousin Mark. Grand…Meme?" At least, that's whom she assumed he was impersonating. Her dead first cousin Mark Butler and her dead Grandmother.

Lovely.

"Quite the pickle you've gotten into, Rose."

"Quite." Even being in a prison cell couldn't keep the smile that curled at her lips.

"Freaking Limey."

Both turned to look at 'grand Meme', though one was a frosty glare and the other was an amused glance. "Hello, grand Meme. I thought you were still in France. How's America?"

Brown looked expectantly to green as 'Mark' replied. "A bit frantic I should say. Rightly, though since you Yanks can't seem to remember to look out for yourselves."

"I forgot you were British, Mark. I thought you grew up in Maine."

"Don't be silly Rose. Next you'll be saying grand Meme isn't from France."

"Freaking French."

Both turned once more to look down to the grey little alien and Rose sighed away the tense feelings that had been piling onto her shoulders. "You find America frantic?"

Arthur looked at her cell rather then her, a frown rightly in place. " More then that."

"I see." So America was worried about her after all. It was less comforting then she thought it would be. Silence passed for only a second before England started again.

"Why are you here?"  
At that she looked up. "You don't know? No one said anything?"

He looked slightly ruffled and dove his long pale fingers through shaggy hair. "It's like you picked up and left. Honestly, if I didn't know better I'd say it was supposed to be in secret."

She looked to her entwined fingers, resting back against the cold cement block walls. "I see." It was so soft and subdued; she had to wonder at Arthur's silence if he had even heard her.

It wasn't Arthur who spoke next though. "Poof."

"Poof?" A glance to the small alien and then Rose looked to England's face, surprised to see the maniacal grin gracing his lips. He just shrugged.

"Did I ever mention that I drabble in magic?" He pushed the sleeves of his navy button up shirt– curled to his elbow and he glanced sidelong at her.

"Ar–Mark…" The warning was quiet, but sharp.

"Lad, could you happen to tell me the time?" Arthur turned his back to Rose and she looked to Tony who was making a 'turn around' motion with his four-digit hand.

"Yeah. Sure. It's uh…about tw–" Rose saw Arthur's arm lift up, something in his palm and she whipped around, pressing her face to the icy stone as a brilliant flash filled the room. An almost sweet breeze filled the cell and she turned, hair in her eyes, to see the guard looking languidly up at the ceiling. He looked to Arthur, Tony and Rose with a smile.

"Hi."

Her jaw had to have popped to the floor and she looked to England who looked quite alike to the cat who had swallowed the canary…and had tuna right next to it's paw. "Could you be so kind as to open the door? Ah, yes. There's a good fellow. Thank you so much."

The guard, who stumbled lightly without realizing it, pressed a small black button on the wall and then came to her cell door, unlocking it with a key. He then pushed the wall of bars to the side and motioned for her to step out. "Thank you." Rose tilted her head while staring at him, eyes darting to Arthur in panic.

"Ah, no."

Rose turned to see Arthur shaking his head and holding out his hand as though telling a two year old that they couldn't come along. "Stay here. I need someone to make sure the cell doesn't go anywhere."

"I can do that!" The man looked so happy and yet it was so dichotomous to the fact that he was graying and held a tough aura to his persona.

"Freaking humans." Tony glared then at Arthur. "Freaking show off Limies."

While the man looked affronted, Rose took a hesitant step to the darkened hallway that could hold her freedom. She looked back to her cell where the guard was lying down to take a nap. "I don't think I can do this…"

Both the alien and the Briton looked surprised. "What…of course you can. I didn't team up with this nutter for fun you know." He grabbed her arm and started to storm forward.

"But doesn't that say I'm guilty? Shouldn't I stay? I'm innocent. I've done nothing wrong. I have trust in Alfred's system."

"Then you're a bloody fool." Arthur stopped at a corner and frowned angrily at her while Tony stood by her right. "America's not perfect, sometimes I think the git can't tie his shoes properly…idiot." Arthur then moved away from her and looked at the grey painted wall. "Let us handle it. Besides, I've been dying from boredom lately." He gave the ghost of a smile and then tapped the wall.

"Right here should be fine, Tony."

"What?"

Tony simply glanced at the spot and suddenly there was no wall. The familiar feeling of hysterics started to claim her and she would have stood there giggling at the opening had two hands not wrapped around her forearms and pushed her outside.

She was still giggling lightly in a panic when she was ushered to a car and Tony got behind the wheel, Arthur taking a seat next to her. It wasn't until the car had accelerated forward and she fell into the soft interior that she actually looked at England again.

"What did you do to him?"

"Who?"

"The guard."

"Ah." Arthur itched at his nose and then looked out of the window. "Something I made for when France comes for a visit. Makes them very compliant…otherwise the frog would never leave me alone." With a mutter after that England looked away from the blurred scenery and into Rose's worried eyes. "Have you ever read _The Count of Monte Cristo_?"

"Yes. When I was a girl."

She could have sworn Arthur muttered 'you are still a girl', but he nodded. "Think about that then. Not that I'm saying Alfred would have let you come to harm as Dantés did." A pause. "Don't you ever tell the frog I read his stupid book."

Rose tried to give a smile, but it faltered and crumbled. "Of course."

* * *

It was silent in the hotel room, and that was only due to the fact that Rose was sitting on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, looking to her toes as she listened to the spray of water behind her. She traced a finger in the grout between the tiles, then looked up to where the counter of the sink was. She had told England she was going to take a moment to freshen up, collect herself. Really she had had a short bout of silence while thinking about what on earth was going on.

Was she now considered the enemy to America? Or was she just lost under politics? Did her boss think that she was against him? Nestling into the cocoon of towels she had made, rose took a deep breath and then shut her eyes. It was ridiculous to her that anyone would think she would want to hurt America…personification or not. That she would harm what most of her family had died protecting was even more ludicrous in her opinion. But there was something McCarthy had seen, that she was sure of, and had told someone about it.

Rose gave her cheek a tap, leaving enough of a sting to jar her thoughts from spiraling into hysterics. Turing off the water as the towels sloughed away from her lap, she placed the terry cloth onto the counter and then walked out to the hotel room. A gleam of golden hair caught Rose's eye and she twisted slightly to see Francis talking to Arthur. Tony was sitting on a pillow on the floor– his clothes long gone.

Whatever they had been arguing about was halted as they noticed her. "Right then –" Arthur muttered, obviously about to start something.

"Why did you break me out?"

Both glanced at each other and Rose waited wearily. It was Francis who answered. "I'm sure Angleterre had said it earlier. We were bored."

"I see." Rose twirled her fingers in a circular motion.

"And Alfred has been more of an irritating git lately. I'd rather just have the paperwork done then rather then having to wait forty-three minutes while he searches it in that land mine of his."

Rose smiled at that. "Can I make a phone call?"

"You're not in prison."

"I know." She walked over to the black phone sitting on the table. "I want to call my lawyer."

Arthur raised a brow. "Lawyer? You think we'll prosecute you?"

She rolled her finger through the dials, listening to the wheel click as it fell back into place and the phone start to ring. She didn't answer until the line picked up.

"Hello?"

"Frank?"

There was a static filled woosh as Frank sighed. "Rose! Where on earth are you? How are you calling me?"

"Long story darling," she murmured and then glanced up to the two nations by the couch. "I'm at the Regent. Room 804."

"I'll be there in a jiffy. Hold on Rose."

Rose frowned and then hung the phone up. Turning around, she came to sit on the edge of the bed adjacent to the small couch.

"He could turn you in." Francis looked on languidly to the outside window, but their eyes met for a second in the glass panel.

"No. He won't." With a small sigh she dragged her feet up and rubbed at the skin on her calf. " What now?"

"Alfred's coming."

She didn't look up from her legs to acknowledge that and Arthur continued. "Then we'll see."

The room went back to silence for a while, that is until she looked down at the alien on the floor. "Why did you help, Tony?"

Red eyes looked back impassively, though it had to be her imagination that he looked sort of irked. "Alfred forgets what I like to eat. Other wise I'd never be here with this freaking Limey."

Both England and Tony glared for a moment and Rose giggled. It formed into a laugh and before she knew it he was wiping at her eyes from the sudden onset of tears that had encased her face. She took a breath, trying to rid the unnecessary tears when a knock came to the door.

She didn't see who got it since she was still wiping at her face, taking the handkerchief held out to her and dabbing away the salty water. A hand lifted her face up.

"Hey there. Don't cry."

Startled by the voice she looked up blearily at blonde hair and bright blue eyes hiding behind a pair of glasses. At that instance the tears fell even more and she chocked on anything that could have sounded coherent.

"What? Really, come on. No need for the tears, right?" his voice was soft as though he was talking to a frightened child.

It took a minute of blubbering out several consonants that made no sense in any language before she whimpered out in a tinny voice, "You hate me."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do!" she whipped at he face with the cuff of her shirt, feeling the coarse fabric rub against the agitated skin. "You do!"

"Look, I think I know how I feel, and I don't hate you. Now you're really not pretty when you cry."

She wacked his hand away and frowned. "Quiet." She muttered and rubbed at her swollen eyes once again, and rubbed her nose away from the running that had started. She glanced at the blue fabric balled in her hand and looked to France. "Thank you."

He smiled as she sniffed. "Of course."

Alfred was watching both of the other nations. "So you broke one of my own citizens out of one of my own jails."

"You were taking too bloody long to do it yourself."

Rose was sure an argument was going to break out from the look on America's face, when a knock once more came to the entry way.

"Come in," Arthur called.

Frank opened the door quickly, looking at the room with a flash of his bright eyes and finally settled on Rose's face. "Rose!" He was over in an instance, hugging her tightly. She gripped onto his suit s though the world was going to hell.

Green eyes appraised her face as he pulled back and he looked to the three men in the room. It didn't miss her the way he placed his body in front of the others, stopping their access to her. "I don't think we've met before."

Arthur glanced at him and then to Rose. She wondered briefly if he knew he had been born in the UK.

"No. We haven't." Alfred held out his hand to the young man. "I'm Alfred Jones. Rose's boss."

Frank took the hand warily and then dropped it after a single shake. "Frank O'Malley. Rose's Lawyer."

There had been just the slightest hesitation at 'lawyer' and Rose looked at him with a hidden smile.

Frank looked at Alfred with strange expression for a few more seconds and then turned to Rose. "I don't think I've ever seen you cry."

She rubbed at her nose again. "Oh, I must look like a miserable woman right now. Forgive me."

"Don't sweat it, darling." Frank rubbed at her hair. "Though, you're not pretty when you cry, I hate to see you like this."

"So it's be okay if I was?" She knew her face got splotchy and her nose ran angrily. Normally her throat would swell too and it made her sound pathetic. She knew she wasn't one of those pretty stars on the silver screen who looked simply lovely with rimmed and glistening eyes.

"So I need to know what exactly it is you're being charged for." Frank said and he gave a glance to Alfred.

She looked out to where the window was, but France was blocking it. "Espionage." She then looked to America with a frown. "Care to explain why?"

She could have sworn she heard 'that's my Rose' from someone, but she didn't know whom.

"Russia got some documents…they shouldn't have."

"And that's my fault?" When Alfred looked on she tacked on quickly, "Which ones?"

"Er…they're highly classified. I really can't mention them."

Rose licked her chapped lips and tapped a naked foot on the carpet. "The military movements or the you-know-what project you-know-where?"

"The later."  
Frank looked at Rose who was still looking at her nation with a frown. "I didn't touch those documents."

"I know that."

"Then why was I arrested!"

"Because no one else knows where they went and it all points to you! Do you really think I want you under arrest?" Alfred waved his hand and in turn the young American woman crossed her legs and folded her arms, reverting back to a mode only seen in the office.

"Did you think he might have grabbed them like how you grabbed his?"

There was a pause and Alfred looked back blankly. "But he didn't have a sec –".

He held up her hand, blushing to the roots. She had made him swear they would never talk about the Polaroid instance again. She then took a slow breath and looked to Frank. He was watching Alfred and the other nations warily. "So what now?"

"Well." At that Alfred rubbed at his head. "We can ship you off to Argentina tonight and we'll never hear from you again, or you can come back to the office to work and I'll deal with it."

Rose tilted her head. "How's the weather in Argentina?"

"Funny, Rose. Very funny." Frank looked down at her and she gave an impish smile.

"I guess the office isn't so bad…on one condition."

Taking a seat in the chair across from the bed, Alfred waved his hand. "Shoot."

"You will not, and I mean _will not_, mention of this instance again. And you will watch the Stanley Cup with your brother."

"That's two."

"Yes. It is." She waited as his face contorted into a small frown and he shrugged with a sigh.

"Alright then. I'll be seeing you on Monday then."

"I guess you will." She stood up, taking Frank's proffered hand and could have laughed on how he still moved to her side facing the other three men. She was at the door with a sigh on her lips when America suddenly called out, "Why hockey with Matthew?"

She turned around with a flash of her brown eyes. "Well, I can't beat you up."

* * *

Alrighty then...

( I feel like this was a Fail Chapter, but maybe it's just my frustration towards my hand.) More light hearted stories coming up, especially since it's 1954. *evil laugh* Oh poor Rose. I know you will wish that infernal chain had never been opened.

OKAY. NOW IT IS TIME TO THANK THE SUPER WICKED AWESOME PATIENT EPIC AND TOTALY COOL PEOPLE WHO ARE KNOWN AS SUCH:

**Cross-over-lover232, chrono-contract, FullmetalShinigami21096, Hikari Kame, Tea-PartyCrasher, alabaster-demon, PinkPanter123, PrussianAwesomeness,Just another fma fan, rultas, candy4yourEYEZ, **and **LuckyNumbers **:D

PS. Oh god, must write Asians into story...

PPS. I have a halloween story with a few characters who I am getting ready to write with. :)

PPPS. THANK YOU ALL FOR BEING PATIENT WHILE MY HAND HEALS AND FOR REVIEWING. I'D GIVE INTERNET COOKIES AND RAINBOWS IF I COULD


	8. Chapter 8

Hey everyone! I hope you are well and all that. My hand has healed for the mist part, but now I have the flu. D: What is wrong with me?Must be Karma from chapter 9. Anyway...Continuation of the 50's, might be a little more and then on to the 60's. I swear most of you have been excited for that since the beginning.

_Chris

* * *

_**September 1955**_

While sitting at the lunch table in the upstairs kitchen, Rose's warm brown eyes flew over the printed words of the text in her hands. It was almost funny that she had to hide the book under the table as she ate, fingers slick against the spine of the leather book with perspiration from the heat of a dwindling summer. She flipped the next page, frowning as a smidge of salad dressing fell on the corner of the page. Well, maybe Rose could read it out in the open…but she thought it was better to hide the material and not offend any nations with her choice of literature and simply read in the silence of her lunch break.

Eyes still fluttering over the words, and so engrossed was she, that she did not hear anyone come into the room as her heart sped up with the tale over the mysterious speckled band. She placed the fork into her mouth, chewing on the bitter lettuce as Holmes and Watson sat still in the dark of the manor, until the chair across from her scratched so suddenly and loudly that she jumped, slamming the book shut with a snap and started to choke on her food.

She coughed, trying to breath and a hand thumped her back quickly and hard enough to startle her again. She managed to clear her throat and spat the offending piece into napkin, looking up to see Prussia looking more then slightly amused. Again another cough and she waved her hand, turning back to the table to see a young child halfway into his seat with a perplexed look on his face.

"The point of lunch is to eat it Rose. Not breath it."

Her eyes were watering, but she managed to glare at the Prussian. She placed her hand in front of her mouth, leaning slightly on the tabletop as the two sat in the free seats next to her. She looked at the young boy, frowning slightly and then turning to Gilbert. "I didn't know you had a son."

His face contorted to an odd look and the kid on the other side began to laugh so hard he had to hold his sides. Rose switched her brown eyes from the new child and then back to the white haired man. "What? No. This is Sealand. Peter."

Apparently from the swell of pride in the young boys chest, that was supposed to mean something. However, nothing came up to thoughts and she looked blankly at Prussia. He snickered as the child's face dimmed and he fell into a seemingly familiar frown. "Sealand?" Rose placed the book in front of her, and tapped the cover thoughtfully. "Perhaps it's just me…but where is that?"

"I'm a nation!" at this Sealand slapped his tiny fist onto the table and stood on the chair, one foot on the table as he pumped his fist childishly. "I'm the mighty nation of Sealand."

Gilbert didn't even look to him as he simply grabbed his shirt and yanked him down. "Cut it out. No you're not." He simply snorted as the young sailor outfitted boy folded his arms and frowned. Rose glanced at him again and then to Prussia. "Shouldn't you be with Russia?"

His eyes darkened and he matched Sealand's frown. "No. The jerk is in a meeting."

Rose looked at him for a moment and then with a hum, she looked between both boys and stood up. "Well, I have to get back to work." Gilbert was cradling his cheek in his hand and then snatched the book from her hands, holding it out of her reach.

"Hey! Give that back!" She reached towards him, then stopped as she realized her chest would be looming over his face. Rose pulled back, frowning as he simply waved it at her.

"Aw, come on Rose. I'll give it back, but only if you say yes."

Bristling, Rose tapped her foot. If she were a dog, her hackles would have been raised in warning. "Oh stop. I told you last week 'no'. Please give it back."

Sealand was watching in interest, his small elbows propped on the table and fists curled under his chin.

Rose's dark eyes narrowed. Ever since last week, Prussia had been asking her out. Actually, he had even followed her home to ask her out and now it was starting to annoy her. Apparently what she had gleaned was that it was a drunken bet made between some of the other nations…though who they were she would like to know. She extended her hand, demanding the book, and suddenly he grabbed her, pulling her in with a spin and causing her to trip into his arms.

"Come on, how terrible would it be to go out with someone as awesome as me?"

Rose's face lit up brightly at the close vicinity of their bodies, especially how his hand was starting to trail lower…

She slapped him– hard– and fell to the ground with an 'oof' as he dropped her in surprise. "Damn…at east it's not a frying pan…" he muttered and rubbed his cheek. Rose got up and started to walk away, her book not worth the drama that she could feel was slowly percolating.

Faintly she knew Peter was laughing, and a hand coiled around her wrist. "Oi –"

"Unhand me." It was quiet and maybe had more then a little underlying anger towards the Germanic nation. Brown eyes studied as Prussia assessed her for a moment and then pulled her closer.

"Not until you agree."

"Never!"

"What do I have to do to get you to go out with me?" How can my amazingly good looks have not affected you yet?"

Rose stepped on his foot and moved away, though he didn't let go of her wrist. "I'm dating someone. How do you not get that?"

"There's no way anyone could ever compare to my awesomeness." There was a glint in his bright eyes and Rose looked at him in revulsion. "One kiss should make you get that."

He pulled her closer again, and she was startled at how close his lips were, at least until she ripped the book from the table top only inches away and walloped it across his head. He looked stunned, and she turned and fled.

"Hey!"

"Leave me alone!" Rose started to run back to the office, knowing the door held a lock in it. She turned back at him, listening to her heels clicking furiously, as he chased after her. "How did that not stop you?"

"Hungary hits me with metal every day. You think a book's going to do any damage?" He looked happy though as he ran after her, like the popular boy in school who was trying to find out just what color the new girl's panties were.

Rose could see the bend where the offices started and tried to put some speed on, trying to out run the nation trailing behind her. Hair askew and panting, she came to a halt as she stared at all of the chairs in the building forming a barricade from her sanctuary and she could have yelled in frustration.

"Like my barricade?" Prussia called out from behind her, laughter in his voice.

Whipping around, Rose moved at the last second to have Prussia barrel past her and into the stacks of chairs. She had a new place to go. Sealand was running behind them apparently for he stopped at the start of the hallway with a smile on his face at seeing the elder nation being tangled in the furniture.

Brown eyes didn't even turn to glance back as she launched towards the lobby, mind only on finding an office and locking herself into it until he gave up. Heels really weren't meant for running and she nearly rolled her ankle once as she tried to sharply turn down the stairs. The concrete stairs only amplified the clicks of her heels and the thought of those films Alfred had dragged her to not long ago went through her mind.

It wasn't that she was afraid though, she had a feeling Prussia wouldn't try anything more then his idiotic idea of getting her out on a date, but a proper American woman would never fall into a pair of foreign arms so quickly. Her mama would be horrified any other way. And so she finally found herself coming to the second level of offices, slamming her hand into the stairwell's door and prying it open to the silent hall.

Two doors down to the right was all she had to run to. Then she was in safe territory, sort of. However, fingers curled into the back of her dress and she was forced to slow down as Gilbert caught her.

"Go out with me."

"No!"

"Please?"

"No!"

He huffed and dogged a hand aimed at his face, red eyes still glinting with the energy of the chase. "I'll buy dinner…"

She swatted at his hand again, though he caught it and she found herself trying to tug out of his grip with anger. "Never! No! Non! Nien! Iie! No is no!" She tugged again, this time walking back and he simply walked forward with her, and then to the side.

"Yes. The word is 'yes'. In fact, 'Oh Gilbert, the most handsome man I've ever laid my little brown eyes on, I would love to' works just as well."

Rose furrowed her brow as she glared at the floor, noticing that he was forcing her into a waltz. "No! How about just 'no'? What warped fantasy do you live in?"

Apparently her looking up and glaring at him somehow translated into 'kiss me' in Prussian, for he smirked and tried to lean in again.

That is until a hockey stick found it's way between their bodies and barred any further advances.

Rose looked down at the red stick and then up to Matthew who was standing calmly on their right. She hadn't even seen him. Sealand was still laughing hysterically somewhere, but Prussia didn't let go of her wrist. It wasn't even that his grip was tight– he was just being stubborn.

"Let go of the poor girl, Eh?" Matthew gave a small smile and Prussia let go after a second, Rose had a moment as she rubbed her wrist where she wanted to take the book still in her hand and deck him across the face. Nations were strong right? They could handle a small woman's arm.

Prussia shrugged at the northern brother of America. "I'm jut trying to get her on a date."

"I'm dating someone," she muttered sourly.

Red eyes gazed at her in contemplation and he pointed at her nose. "I'll get you on a date, even if I have to wait sixty years."

"Well tough for you." She was fussing with her hair angrily, though she had taken a small step closer to Mattie.

"If Frank doesn't work out, call me up." Prussia gave a smile and then started to walk away, his face set in some cheer.

Rose turned when his back faded into the shadows of the building and looked to Matthew who was quietly twirling the stick between his hands.

"Thanks," the murmur was quiet and she gave a small dip of her head while clutching onto the book.

"Don't mention it." He gave a small patient smile and then started to walk back to his office. She had always wondered why they were on separate floors, but she had quickly learned that it was so everyone didn't mix him up with Alfred…which almost everyone still did.

Rose had mixed them up the first year working there, accidentally calling him America, but after that she had somehow known he was not her nation. It was like some piece of warmth was absent when her nation was away…as he was now and taking care of some problems down South.

Rose followed after Canada, looking into his neat and cozy office with a smile. It would be nice if America was that neat…that alone would save her an hour of work each day.

"You can stay in here if you want. I'm sure Alfred wont mind."

"Thank you." She took the seat in the corner and waited until the large northern nation began to go back to his work, placing the stick next to his desk. Opening the book, she tried to read once more but found her mind wasn't registering a single word of the black print.

She thumbed the page over, taking a long deep breath and forcing herself to calm down and simply read.

Her mind continued to float away though, mostly because she hadn't seen Alfred in nearly two weeks and holding down the fort was becoming harder and harder. He would go away sometimes to take care of problems across the country, but when he went overseas for meetings she always traveled along.

Perhaps it was just the reason he was down in the deeper part of the South that was bothering her, what with a few murmurs of the KKK and lynching's falling out onto the print of the newspapers.

Unable to get into her book, she shut it and then looked around Matthew's office. There were several old maps hanging about, some pictures of forests and people. Her eyes fell back onto the hockey stick and she tilted her head for a second.

"How do you play?"

Canada looked up over the rims of his glasses, lavender eyes clouded for a beat from the transfer of work to conversation, but then he followed her gaze to the sports equipment.

"Hockey?"

"Yeah. I mean, I've seen some of the guys back home play it, but what are the rules?"

"You really don't know?" Matthew looked more then surprised, probably the same way Alfred would look if someone asked what coca-cola was.

"Not really. But if you're busy…"

"What? No." He put down the paper in his hands and looked at her eagerly. "What do you want to know?"

"I guess the basics." Rose smiled as Matthew started to explain the game, hands waving once or twice to place emphasis on a certain points and she fell into the steady rhythm of his voice, finding comfort of sitting in the office with the other nation.

* * *

_**Present Day**_

Rose was sitting at her desk, looking down at a small report on troop movements in Afghanistan when she heard a light knock on the door. She didn't even look up and simply waved an aged hand slowly for them to come in. She shifted her reading glasses and then looked up.

"What can I do for you?"

Alfred jumped over, a grin on his face as he held his hands behind his back. "So I was watching the TV yesterday and I saw this commercial…"

"You weren't buying from infomercials again, were you?" Rose shifted the papers in her hands while pulling an air of indifference towards her nation. There had been a period in the 90's when he had been a TV shopping addict, buying more then one useless item.

"It wasn't an infomercial." Alfred shrugged when Rose gave him a look of doubt and then pulled his hand out in front of her, holding a small what box on a cord. She gave it a critical eye for a moment, adjusting her reading glasses at the plastic.

"What is it?"

"Something to help you incase you get hurt at home."

She stopped glancing at the plastic and a frown fell onto her lips. "That better not be what I think it is Jones."

He simply had a look of innocence on his face, swinging it in front of her. "Aw come on, they said all senior citizens should have one."

Had she her youth and energy from even ten years ago, Rose would have gotten up to smack him on the arm. However, she turned back to her report to ignore him. "I am not wearing that idiotic gadget."

"But it's Life Alert!"

"Then go fall down the stairs and use it."

Alfred had a small pout on his young face and she sighed as he sat on the edge of her desk. He placed it on her report and she looked up at him. "Come on, I just want to make sure you're all right."

"Alfred, I am a 79 year old woman, not an invalid. I have more then enough energy to work and I thank you for that, but I will not wear it."

He pushed it to the side of her desk, leaving it there and hopped down to go to his desk, however he didn't see the stack of papers Rose had uncharacteristically placed on the floor and tripped.

She chuckled and circled a few words with her red pen, then looked down to where America sat dazed. "It looks as if you need Life Alert Mr. I've-fallen-and-can't-get-up."

He grinned at her and then laughed.

* * *

_**October 1954**_

Normally fastidious, Rose was one who would re-write a paper rather then hand in a copy that had been stained by coffee or tea. So it was with more then a little bit of an annoyance that she started to see grease spots on some of the documents that Alfred would hand back to her, always after lunch.

Gathering an example, she closed the office and started to walk to the kitchen nearby where most went to have their lunch break. They had recently replaced the carpeting and the floors were covered in a mixture of red and gold patterns. Finally coming to the kitchen, she paused at the door seeing Alfred's back and sitting next to Australia and Canada. She paused for a moment, deciding if she should go in or not. Now Rose had no problem explaining to Alfred just what it was that bothered her, however she never felt right doing it in front of other nations.

Just as she was about to leave though, Australia caught sight of her and waved her down. "Hey Rose!"

"Hello Cody," her voice remained quiet though and she stepped in, looking to America as he turned.

"Something wrong?" he asked, eyes bright from the reflection of his glasses.

She hummed as a response, just shuffling the page in her hand. "No. Not really. I just had a request."

"Shoot."

"I was wondering if you could wash your hands after you finish eating whatever it is that you've been having or lunch lately." She shifted her weight slightly, watching as his face remained neutral for a second before bursting out into a sunny grin.

"Oh! You must be talking about McDonalds."

She stayed silent and he continued. "It's this new franchise out in California. When I came back I brought a lot of them with me since they're so awesome. Want to try?"

He lifted a burger up in the air, wrapped in paper and half eaten. Rose took a look at it, and it did look good, but she had just eaten and really wasn't hungry. "It looks good, but maybe some other time," she voiced while smoothing out her black and white dress. "You're just getting finger marks on the reports that have to be delivered to the President."

"What report?" He looked genuinely confused and for a moment Rose paused, then turned to go.

"The report on the submarine. Don't worry. I have it all done."

"I'll come with you then."

She stood to get up but Rose waved her hand down. "Oh don't. Just finish your conversation."

Alfred shrugged, pushing the seat in and taking another bite of his food. "We were jus' talkin' 'bout Arthur."

"What about him?" The looks between Matthew and Cody didn't go unnoticed.

"He's setting up an expedition to search for the Abominable Snowman."

The silence was enough of a retort, and Rose blinked while looking at the three faces varying in degrees of amusement. "What?"

"Yeah…. Anyway. The report."

"The report…. The Abominable Snowman?"

He sighed, then took another bite of the burger. "Yep. Focus Rose. Focus. The report…"

She continued down the hall, mind still set on the image of Arthur going through the Himalayas looking for a furry beast. She wasn't sure if she should be laughing or concerned.

"The report?" Alfred asked again, but got no response from the daydreaming secretary.

* * *

Sweet. Another chapter done :) This will be short since I'm going to take a nap to hopefully get rid of the fever. "*sigh*

OKAY. NOW IS IS TIME TO THANK THE SUPER WICKED AWESOME FUN THOUGHTFUL KIND AND TOTALLY COOL PEOPLE.

**Hikari Kame, Lumoa, LuckyNumbers, cross-over-lover232, candy4yourEYEZ, Tea-Party Crasher, FullmetalShinigami21096, PrussianAwesomeness, Just another fma fan, alabaster-demon (x 2), , LoneGunGirl88,** and** rultas **:D

PS. Thanks for all the Reviews

PPS Thanks for everyone wishing my hand better. :)


	9. Chapter 9

Hey everyone! I'm still sick and god I feel like this is Alfred's way of getting back at me. Ugh. Okay. So long chapter is long and it's still 1950's I have a little stuff planned so please bare with me as I elongate the 50's. Sorry.

_Chris

_**

* * *

March 1959**_

"Wake up."

Rose cracked an eye open, mind foggy from sleep and turned over to see Alfred looking at her in concern. "What?" she muttered, pulling her coat over her frame tightly.

He held out a hand and she took it, letting him lift her off the floor. "You fell asleep in the office."

Yawning and stretching until she heard a satisfying pop from her lower back, she rubbed at her eyes and glanced about the foreign French office. "As did you," she reminded him and began to fold her coat.

He watched her as she milled about the office, patting her hair down of the wisps that had come away from her neat bun, and tried to press out the folds of her trousers and tucked in blouse. She looked back at him, brown eyes flickering to the clock over his head. "Oh. I slept in."

"You slept in? Were you intentionally staying in the office all night?"

She glanced at him, taking a few bobby pins from her dresser and a comb to brush out her hair and pin it back, giving it a more relaxed look then yesterday. "Well, I always do."

He frowned. "You always sleep in the office when we travel?"

"No." She turned back to her desk, biting the pins between her teeth and taking out a small compact mirror to check her hair. Lips twitching down to a frown as she saw her makeup smeared slightly, she rubbed the offending splotch away with her finger and then continued to fix her hair before another day of work. She looked up, pulling the pins away from her mouth and at Alfred's face. "I don't know, I've always done it. Whenever you fall asleep in the office I stay here too."

He came over to her, sitting on the edge of her desk and she pinned her hair back. "What? Really? Why?  
At that she blushed, pretending to be too engrossed in her hair, but he waited patiently until she flickered her eyes up at him. "Um…never mind."

He started to clean his glassed with his shirt, and she looked back to her desk. "No, tell me. Why do you sleep here when you can just go back to the hotel?"

She mumbled her answer so he couldn't hear and went to grab a stack of notes that had to be typed up. Her boss followed behind her as she walked around until she got frustrated and turned. "I'm scared. Alright?"

He blinked in surprise, most likely not expecting that as an answer. "Scared of what?"

She dropped the papers onto her desk with a thud. "It's silly," she muttered quietly and sat at her chair again to start typing. She frowned, missing her normal typewriter back in New York. "I just have a fear that someone would come in and try to harm you." She didn't look up at that, too embarrassed and focused her emotions at the keys, hitting one or two a little harder then they needed.

She heard a light snort and glanced up to see him smiling. "That's kind of sweet."

"Oh, hush."

"No really. But what would you do? It's kind of like asking a kitten to guard a police dog."

"A kitten?" She bristled slightly and looked back to her work. "I don't know. Maybe grab a broom a crack it over their head."

She managed to look miffed as he chuckled. "I think I'd pay to see that." He then paused and his jovial face became concerned. "But really, you don't have to do that. I'm more then capable of protecting myself. If anything its you I should be concerned for."

She just hummed and focused on changing out a ribbon. "Forget it. It's just maternal instincts or something."

"Ah. Okay."

She huffed and went back to her work.

* * *

_**October 1957**_

It was late night and Rose furrowed deeper into her heavy fall coat as she stood beside America, head tilted back and gazing at the sky as they stood on the roof of the office's. She glanced at his face, currently blank as he watched a globe of light speed across the sky. There was enough light from the city that she was able to make out the sudden change of emotions, switched between anger, fear and incredulity.

She rubbed her gloved hands together, getting more warmth from the friction and tucked a strand of honey hair behind her ear that had been pulled loose from the wind. They had just found out about Russia's launch of the satellite and Rose still remembered the way Alfred looked, as though someone had punched him in the gut. America had been caught off guard and now the whole nation was staring at the sky, wondering what would come next.

Russia had beaten America.

She glanced at the light, uncertainty for the future running through her like ice though her veins. With a sigh, she started to turn back to the door that lead back inside the building. "Come on Alfred, you'll catch cold." She paused when he didn't move, standing a good ten feet away.

"How the hell…" His hand rubbed over his face, numb from the cold Rose guessed, and still kept his eyes on the satellite until it disappeared from view. "How could that Communist–"

"Alfred."

He looked away from the sky and to the glowing outline of New York. "He's got as many nukes as I do Rose, and now he can launch them in space."

She twirled her fingers, looking up to where Orion filled the sky. "I know."

"How did he beat me?"

"He hasn't beaten you." She paused when he turned to her, their eyes meeting. "So he's launched a satellite into space. Okay. It's the start. The only way this'll be the end is if you give up." He made a slightly strangled noise when she muttered about giving up and Rose smiled. "You're America. A land of progression. He may have won this round, but we'll one up him. I have faith in that."

In her mind she thought angrily, _no one beats my nation_, but she kept that to herself. They stood there in silence and finally she turned to go back inside once more, glad to hear Alfred's footsteps follow after her. She nearly sighed from the heat indoors and rubbed at her running nose, glancing at America once more to see that familiar light of competition back in his eyes. "I'll see you in the morning Jones. Don't stay up too late."

"I wont." And they parted ways, Alfred going back to the office and Rose heading downstairs to go to her home.

* * *

_**December 1957**_

Rose was humming along to the song on the radio, twirling a little at the chorus for Hey Jealous Lover by Frank Sinatra. At the blare of the brass to the beat of the song she flicked the broom as though it were a dancing partner. She continued to sway in step with the song, dusting off all of the surfaces and cleaning the windows. As she came to end of the song she gave a little tap and another twirl, almost falling over thanks to her lead feet. At the soft giggle she turned around, face as red as wine and wrung the grimy soap filled rag between her hands.

Standing at the door was Russia's older sister, and it was always strange to see the bright and sunny girl around America's office since normally in her free time she could be found hanging about Canada's floor.

"Ukraine?" Rose asked in surprise, seeing the soft happiness from before drain away and become slightly unsure, as if she wasn't sure what she was doing.

"Rose, right? We really don't get to talk all that much."

"Um, no." Rose pulled away her black bandana, and letting her honey colored hair bounce to her shoulders. "What can I do for you?"

"It's about America."

Rose blinked as she started to wave her to the door and Rose followed in confusion, putting down the cleaning supplies. Though Katyusha didn't move farther from the door, she sort of pointed towards the wall. Rose glanced at her steel colored eyes, which looked a little glassy as though she were going to cry, and then poked her head around the doorframe.

America was slumped against the wall, curled into a ball and not moving. For a moment, all Rose could do was blink and then she rushed over to him. "Alfred?" She said, trying to stay clam and see what was wrong. Taking his wrist into her hand, Rose looked up at Ukraine who was hovering by her side. "Do you have a watch on you? I left mine in the office."

She shook her head, face more and more worried. "He wasn't just taking a nap?"

Rose focused on the pulse under her fingers and chewed on her lip. It felt a little faster then it should have, but she couldn't be sure without a clock. She shook her head though. "I didn't realize he was outside the office." She knew it was close to the end of the day and most nations had gone home, as in home to their lands across the world what with December break starting tomorrow.

Placing her hand on his forehead, she noticed how warm he felt. She tilted her head, thoughts whirling quickly and blinked back up to where Ukraine was still standing. "Is Matthew still here?"

"I think so. I was just going to go talk to brother when I saw Alfred…I thought he was just sleeping though, he falls asleep in some of the strangest places."

Well, there was no arguing with that. Rose let a frustrated sigh fall from her lips as she thought of the time she had walked in to the building to find Alfred having fallen asleep sitting next to an open window. "Do you think you could check for me? I'm sure he'll know what's wrong. Or Arthur. Actually, do you know?"

She shook her head, silver blonde hair swaying as she rubbed her hands in worry. "No. But one of his family would." She then took off down the hall and Rose watched her until she went for the stairs, swearing to herself she could hear her chest. Which was the strangest thing. Brown eyes turned back to watch her nation, tucking her feet under her as she waited to see what was wrong. At least he was breathing normally – that was always a good sign.

A sudden thought crossed her mind and she looked up to the more shadowy side of the hallway all the way by the end, the area where a bulb had burnt out and not yet been replaced. Which, oddly enough, was where Russia's office was. Russia. Rose groaned and touched the bridge of her nose.

Normally, Russia and America had this strange fight between them, but it was nothing physical since it was a cold war and arms race. However, some days they would be fine and could be sitting next to each other in the same room, and then other days Rose ducked in fear that she was going to be shot. Not sure what day it was today, she really should move America.

Of course, he was heavier then a car. As Rose had learned with Arthur years ago, nations were a lot heavier then they looked – they were a representation of a huge mass of land. So really, Rose had the choice of waiting here (which she was going to do anyway) and maybe if it was really bad fish out the gun America always had, or she could roll him.

The thought was ridiculous enough that she simply sat there like an angry mother bear, just waiting for anyone to mess with her. Luckily, the stairwell door opened and Matthew came running out, Katyusha trailing behind.

Canada skidded to a stop in front of the two Americans, kneeling as Rose moved to the side and allowed him to check o his brother. Watching in a terse silence, Rose ran her fingers through her hair and waited for the verdict.

After checking his pulse, breathing and looking for a fever, Matthew looked up with a sigh and a soft smile to Rose and Katyusha who were both standing next to each other. "He just has a cold."

"Oh." Rose looked down at her boss and shook her head. Leave it to him to be the most dramatic.

Canada sighed again, this time agitated. "I guess I'll take him to his house." He paused and then rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "I forgot –I have a meeting with the Prime minister tomorrow."

"If you can get him to his house, I can take care of him. You two were going home together anyway, right?"

When both nations looked at her blankly and a bit of a blush of both of their cheeks, she clarified. "To the airport."

"O-Oh, right." Matthew cleared his throat and then glanced down at his brother. A second later he glanced up at Rose with those bright lavender eyes of his. "You really wouldn't mind?"

"No. I have nowhere to go this year. I'm staying home since Frank's in California visiting his family and my mama can't make it down from Maine."

Looking to Ukraine who was watching Matthew in interest and a slight blush, he shrugged. "As long as you don't mind…but I have to warn you, he's the biggest baby when he's sick."

"More so then when he wears a suit?"

"Probably not."

Rose nodded. "It's really fine, as long as he wouldn't find it as a breach of his privacy. It takes me about five minutes to get there by subway from my apartment."

"Alright then." Matthew knelt down again, grabbing his brother around the waist and hefted him up and over his shoulder. He didn't even grunt and Rose was surprised at the northern nation's strength.

"Let me grab my items and lock the office. Then we can go." Rose rushed inside, shutting the radio off and corralling loose cleaning supplies into a corner. Then grabbing a briefcase, she strung a pile of folders to go through and locked it up, slung it on her arm after putting on her winter hat, coat and gloves. She paused, looking to the small cabinet that kept her extra supplies and she pulled out a grey knit cap.

Locking the door after shutting the lights, Rose turned around and pulled the cap snugly over America's head, pulling off his glasses and folding them so they wouldn't fall off and crack. By this point, Matthew had moved him to a better position in his arms and was looking amused at the hat. "He'll catch his death without a hat in this weather," she mumbled, a little miffed at the look she was receiving.

The three of them walked down to the lobby where Rose went to hail a taxi. As she was waiting for one of the yellow cars to pull to the side, she saw from her peripheral as Katyusha gave Matthew a small awkward hug and then went back inside the building.

As the car rolled to a stop next to them and they all got in, Rose waited for Matthew to explain the address and glanced back at the office. "Katyusha's not coming?"

"She thought it would be better if she went and gave Season's Greetings to her brother and then we'll meet up at the airport."

Rose hummed and waited for the car to bring them to the old townhouse Alfred lived in. It was a place she had been to only a few times before, once when he had gone to Korea for almost two months and she had watered his plants and fed the goldfish he used to have, and another time when he had been stuck in Canada due to a blizzard and she had shut off his water to make sure his pipes wouldn't burst. Of course, Alfred came over to Rose's apartment whenever he felt like it, starting back from one Christmas years and years ago.

She paid the cab driver as Mattie hauled his brother out, and she unlocked the door to his house with a spare key she had kept for emergencies. He went upstairs, entirely familiar with the layout of the old house. He paused in the top level though, looking to Rose. "Should I put him in his bed or on the couch?"

She blushed, feeling like she was trespassing slightly. Then she remembered that he had passed out and he really didn't have much of a choice right now. "How bad is his cold?"

"It's not the flu."

"Put him in his bed. I'm going to turn the heat up in here."

Matthew disappeared into the room adjacent to the living room. After the heat turned up, she wandered about his kitchen to see what he had on stock. Luckily he had some chicken stock and a few vegetables that didn't look too wilted so it looked like she could make him some soup. She even smiled when she found a box of tea hiding in the back of his spice cabinet.

Canada came out, giving her a curious glance as she pulled the tea out to squint and read what exactly it was. "I changed him into a pair of pajamas." Rose looked up startled and put the tea down. "So he should be all set. If you have any questions before I get to my home in Ottawa, you should try calling Arthur."

"Okay…uh, what's his number?"

"Oh. Right." He went around to the living room and pulled out a small red, white and blue book. It was faded with age and falling apart at the bindings, but was stuffed to the brim with extra papers and old contacts. Pulling off the worn leather cord binding it, Matthew flipped towards the back of the book where a small ledger of names and places was listed on a piece of paper that looked like it came from a hotel pad. Which, upon closer examination Rose found it was a hotel in London.

"Here are all the numbers you'll need. Good luck Rose."

"Be safe Matthew. I hear there's a storm coming through."

He gave a smile and waved goodbye, closing and locking the front door with an audible click.

The young American woman walked back to America's bedroom, seeing him sleeping silently from the doorframe. She went to his bathroom, pulling a washcloth from the linen closet and dampened it with cool water. Coming back to the bedroom, she folded it and placed it onto his forehead, hoping it would help bring the fever down.

She walked to the kitchen and began to prepare the soup, which took about an hour to do and she was thankful that the time had gone without her becoming bored. She checked up on Alfred every twenty minutes or so, but saw no reaction. After that she took to turning on the television set, making sure the volume was low where it wouldn't wake him, and watched CBS until Mr. Adams and Eve came on. When she checked up on him, close to nine, she found his breath had suddenly worsened– as though he were struggling to get air.

She ran to his side, sliding cool hands across his face only to find the fever had gone up much higher. She went out to the bathroom, going to get another cloth to place on his neck, when she saw the bottle of Tylenol on the counter. She grabbed it, but then had to stop. America had told her long ago that not all medicine worked on nations, even sometimes causing them to get worse.

She glanced back to the dark bedroom and took the bottle with her. She paused to adjust the cloth on his forehead and flip it, then went out to the living room to grab the phone and dialed Arthur's number.

The phone rang for a while and she prayed that he would pick up even if it was so early in the morning.

She sighed in relief as the ringing ended with a click and an angry growl. "This better be important."

"Arthur?"

There was silence on the phone before a groggy, "Rose? How did you get my home phone number?"

"I'm sorry for waking you up Arthur, but Alfred has a really bad cold and I need to know how much Tylenol I can give him."

"America's sick, is he?" there was a muffled groan and a yawn. "You can give whatever you bloody please. I don't care."

"Arthur, please."

He yawned again and it filled the phone with static. "Just treat it like how you would with anyone else who has a cold. It's only a little illness, he'll be fine." Rose glanced from the living room to the dark bedroom, chewing on her lip in thought until Arthur's tired voice cut through. "And if he stops breathing then you know you gave him too much…heart attack too."

"What? Stops breathing!"

Oblivious to the panic in Roses voice she could hear Arthur's voice getting softer. "Night Rose, he'll be fine."

And the line went dead.

She let out a little noise of frustration and put the phone down. She shook out three tablets, glancing at them in worry. Then grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen, she moved to his bedroom and lifted him up slightly, patting his cheek gently.

"Come on Alfred, can't have you die on me. Then they'll really put me in jail."

He groaned and cracked a blue eye open, glassy and clouded from the cold. She was somewhat startled at how much younger and innocent he looked without his glasses. Pushing him up more, she pressed the water to his lips. "Come on now, drink the fever away. Thank you. Swallow these."

She was glad it was dark to hide her flush, and waited for him to fall back asleep. She did not leave this time however, instead rotating the cloth and pressing the glass up to his lips so he would drink. She fell asleep on the floor early the next day

* * *

When she woke up, she groaned from the hard floor and then got up slowly. It was still early in the morning, and barely any light was passing through the window. She glanced down to America who was still sleeping, the cloth on his forehead had slid down his face during the night and she removed it, glad to see the fever had gone down.

She went to the kitchen, putting a kettle on and then used the bathroom on the lower level of the townhouse. When she came back up after splashing her face with water to remove the kettle, she walked back in to see Alfred awake and looking about the room groggily.

"Good to see you awake," she said quietly, pulling the thermometer she had found last night from the dresser top and pulling it out of it's case.

"What happened?" A pause of silence and he put his hand against his forehead. "What year is it?"

That was an odd question. "1957. Why?"

He sighed and snuggled back into the sheets. "Nothing. I thought it was a long time ago. Mixing my years up."

Rose hummed and came to his bedside. "Here. I need to know your temperature."

He took the thermometer with a pout and she went to grab the tea now that he was awake. Coming back in again and placing the teacup on the dresser, she plucked the small yellow stick from his mouth and read it. "101…better…I think."

She shook it and put it to the side to clean it. Then picking up the tea, she passed it to Alfred who looked scandalized. "If that's what I think it is, I'm not drinking it."

"The revolution was almost two hundred years ago. Drink the tea – it's good for your health."

"Meh." He took the tea when she frowned at him, tilting it slightly towards his body. "You sound like Arthur."

"I drink tea. I used to make my own tea from my old garden back home. Besides, you're sick. You can't even remember the year."

"Hey! I'm an old guy."

"I realize that."

He frowned and she waited until he took a small sip, even with a grimace before moving to the bathroom to clean the thermometer. "What year did you think it was?"

"1778."

She paused in her washing to glance at Alfred who had put the cup to the side and was trying to sit up. "What?"

"I got the yellow fever." He groaned slightly as he sat against the headrest, and Rose came out to pull the covers up further. "And it was really awful."

"Just having a cold made you think it was 1778?"

"Well, sort of. That, and I can't really see right now."

"Oh. Sorry." She grabbed the glasses out of her pocket and handed to them, smiling slightly when they went back on his face.

"That's better." He snuggled into the bed and shut his eyes for a moment. "That and I swore I heard Arthur's name last night."

"I called him for advice."

"Did you now?"

"Er, yeah."

He hummed, but frowned at her when she handed him the tea again. "I had a nurse who took care of me then. I guess that's why. Outside of battle I kind of stay to myself when I get sick."

Rose left the room and poured herself a cup of tea, coming back to the bedroom to steep it. "Well, you passed out in the hallway. I think you were getting help whether you like it or not. Matthew would have taken care of you but he had something else to do."

"I see." He sighed dramatically for being sick. "Too busy to take care of his ailing brother."

Rose simply smiled and sipped the scalding liquid. "Are you hungry?"

Alfred's face twisted to a frown. "No."

"Then you can have more tea."

"But I haaaaate iiiit," he whined.

"Really? Then why do you have it?"

"Maybe Arthur brought it when he stayed over."

"Yes. Arthur bought an American tea."

"It could happen."

Rose shook her head and looked out of the window more closely. It was snowing. "Don't be such a baby. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me. Get some rest."

As she was leaving she could have sworn she heard him mutter 'worse nurse ever' as he took another sip of the tea.

* * *

**_February 1958_**

Giggling at the joke Francis had just made, Rose pushed the door open to the cold winter air of New York City. She turned to France, England and America giving them a smile as they were about to part ways. "I suppose I'll see you Monday then." She pulled the scarf around her neck tightly and gave them a small wave. She paused when she saw Alfred's eyes focus on something behind her.

Frank was standing there, hands deep in the pockets of his winter coat and ears red from the cold. He gave a charming smile and Rose returned it. "Hello Frank. What are you doing here?"

"Hello Rose." He came up to her and gave a small peck to her cheek, lips cold and she knew he had been standing outside for a long time. His green eyes were smiling as he gazed at her and he tipped his hat at her while he took a step back. "I actually wanted to speak to Mr. Jones privately."

She gazed at Frank in surprise and then glanced to Alfred, a same sort of look on his face too. He adjusted his glasses for a second and then shrugged. "Sure. What is it?"

Though the two were speaking sort of formally to each other, Rose knew they were on good terms. Maybe Frank was a little protective of her being surrounded by men at work every day, but he had always seemed to like Alfred when they would talk, usually when Frank was picking her up and she wasn't ready yet from work.

Frank gave a sidelong look and Rose tilted her head. "I guess I'll be seeing you later?" She questioned and when he nodded she started to walk back to her home, leaving the three nations and Frank to speak.

She paused and turned around to see Francis and Arthur take off, leaving Frank and Alfred to walk down the street in the opposite direction. Her breath fogged up in a sigh and she turned around once more, careful not to get snow into her shoes.

* * *

Alright. Done. DANG THAT WAS LONG.

So, question to everyone. I have a few Holiday Chapters written up, and would you rather I post them around the actual holiday time, or whenever I feel like it? I have Thanksgiving and Christmas done ( same Christmas Rose mentioned earlier), so just let me know.

OKAY. NOW IT IS TIME TO THANK THE SUPER DUPER COOL AWESOME FANTASTICAL EPIC FUN NICE PATIENT CARING AND WICKED PEOPLE WHO ARE KNOWN AS SUCH:

**candy4yourEYEZ, Lumoa, just another fma fan, cross-over-lover232, Hikari Kame, . LuckyNumbers, Tea-Party Crasher, ficfan3484, Seileach, rultas **and** PrussianAwesomeness** :D

PS THANKS FOR WISHING ME BETTER AND ALL THE REVIEWS

PPS I bet you can't figure out what Frank and Alfred are discussing...muwahaha.

PPPS. Next chapter hints: _Broom Closet. Gun._ Go.


	10. Christmas Interlude

Hey everyone! I hope you are all well and in good health :) So here is the Christmas Interlude, mostly because I have no idea when the next chapter will come put thanks to make up work and still being sick. But that aside I want to thank everyone for all the amazing feedback I've gotten for this story. I've made a journal just so I can take all the suggestions and notes so I don't forget them and can hopefully apply them to the story. So thanks to everyone for helping evolve this story with your awesome critiques and suggestions.

_Chris

* * *

_**December 1947**_

It was lonely being in her apartment on Christmas, Rose decided while sipping on a bottle of champagne her mama had given her for her birthday a few weeks ago. Currently her mama was out in Iowa, helping out her sister-in-law Cathy take care of the farm since her husband Jonathan had come home without a leg. But at least he was home, Rose thought and toasted the air to her Aunt's fortune.

Rose looked to the mantle over the fireplace in her room, seeing the black and white portrait of her childhood friend and lover, Rodger. She could almost imagine the blue eyes that he had had, framed by his black hair and although the military portrait was stern, Rose could still remember that goofy and shy smile he always had. She shook her head, and sniffed– feeling a sense of profound loss.

She took another sip of the alcohol, looking at the dismal state of her new home. There was a curtain, half hung up on a curtain rod. A small bunch of mistletoe hung up in the center of the room and her record player lay silent next to her radio, which was singing softly with Christmas carols.

Looking up at the ceiling while cuddling into the quilt she had pulled off her bed, Rose turned her head to watch the snow drift past her small window. "Rodger darling…" she started off in a hum from the ache of going through another Christmas without him. "Ah Rodger. I know you're probably very angry with me for staying here alone and missing you. But I do miss you so." She curled feebly into her couch and muttered into a wet pillow, "Why did you have to die?"

She lay there silently for a good hour, not moving an inch and letting her champagne slowly fizz down. Maybe she should have gone back home to Maine like her friends had asked. Oh well. Rose moved when the clock struck eight and pulled the bottle close to her. Taking a swig from it she gave a shrug. It was crass, but she was alone and planning to fall into the clutches of numbing alcohol. It wasn't like she was going to be entertaining anyone.

She heard the doorbell ring and Rose stared at the door for a full minute. She had just moved here less then a week ago. No one knew she lived here yet. When the buzzer yelled again shrilly, she jumped up to answer the door, stumbling slightly from the fog of the champagne she had swigged.

Pulling the door open, the blonde woman was surprised to find her boss standing there with his face rosy from the cold. Rose balked, but then pulled the door wider to see a few other men with him. "Wh-" she started but Alfred cut her off with his usual boisterous voice.

"Well, I remembered you said you were alone on Christmas, and these guys can't get back to their homes according to the storm that's been going on this week, so I figured we'd all sort of mash together and spend it together…besides, no one should be alone on Christmas."

"Oh, well…I didn't think of this…I mean." She paused a moment remembering the other nations that flanked Alfred's side. Canada, England and France. Rose blinked again and turned to her boss once again.

"I...Well it's not proper." After all, what young woman entertained four men alone on Christmas? Not that Rose really cared, but she had a nagging feeling in her mind that Clarisse next door would be placing her under the occupation of a prostitute. "I suppose it wont hurt, but why wasn't your house suitable enough?"

"The stupid git hasn't cleaned that place in what seems like years. We couldn't even find enough room to stand."

"Aw, come on Artie, you exaggerate!"

Rose thought of the office when she had first been hired and shook her head. "Come on in then, I'm afraid though that my rooms are the opposite though." They filed in and she tried to take their coats, but Francis waved her away.

"No need," he said with a smile. Rose blushed slightly and walked into her room.

"Huh. You really weren't kidding." America was gazing about the sparse living room and finally looked back to her.

"I just moved in. Besides, I wasn't expecting anyone." Rose realized though that even for a young woman on their own, just having a borrowed couch, blanket and a table was a little odd. "Um…" She paused looking at the bottle on the floor. "I'd offer you all some but…well."

"Nonsense, do you think we'd simply impose on you?" France held out a bottle of wine and she took it carefully.

"_Merci, Francis_." Rose paused looking at it and realized how much her musings earlier had dampened her mood. No need to pass it to them, right? She could already see they were fidgeting slightly at the awkwardness she was creating. "Okay. Manners, manners!" She nodded and then began to sashay towards the kitchen. Normally it would have been cut off by a door, as was proper for any woman entertaining, but the size of the rooms didn't allow for it and it lay in the corner overlooking the kitchen.

"Alfred, I have some records by the table. But something a little more…happy on." She put the bottle on the counter and grabbed her apron, chewing on her lip to see what she had in the kitchen.

"Okay!" She saw from the corner of her eye as Alfred walked over, bent over her meager collection. It took a few seconds, and it was as Rose was cutting a few slices of cheese that she heard Alfred call back towards her, "You have nothing!"

"What are you talking about? I have at least twenty records."

"Yeah, but they're all in French."

Placing the crackers onto a plate and spreading the cheese over them, Rose frowned at him and walked back to the living room. "Yes, so?"

Turning blue eyes to her, he frowned. "What about, oh I don't know…American songs?"

"I like French." Rose was glaring at him now while offering the plate to Matthew, missing the amused smile Francis had.

"You don't even speak it!"

"Yes I do."

At that Alfred walked back to her and where Arthur and Matthew sat on the small couch and Francis was cross-legged on the floor. "Since when?" He paused and then added, "You never told me you did."

Pouting a little Rose tilted her head while meeting his gaze. "You never asked me. Besides, I told you my mama was–"

"Yeah, yeah. French. I remember."

"There you go. I spoke French before English and I like it so there." She paused and put a hand on her hip, then her mind caught up with her and she looked down to where Francis was sitting.

"Ah, so you're French? I thought there was something pleasant about you."

Arthur snorted, looking down at his neighboring nation, "You think anything with two legs is 'pleasant'."

Rose shook her head and walked back to her kitchen to pull out some glasses. "Half French, half British. Full blooded American. Now before this starts some petty argument let's change the conversation." Rose rummaged through her drawers, looking for a corkscrew. While plowing the curled metal through the soft cork, she suddenly called out, "Oh! I forgot. On the mantle is two of Louis Armstrong's record's– it's behind the clock."

The cork finally popped out and she began to pour the red wine into the glasses she had, coming up short and pouring one into a mug for herself. "Cabernet Sauvignon." She read the label softly frowning at it and then took a sip. It was a surprising blend and despite being a whiskey girl (something her mama always groaned over), Rose decided she liked it. Bringing the flutes over, she handed them out to each man, smiling at Matthew's soft 'thank you'. She stood up to hand Alfred his glass when she noticed he was looking at Rodger's picture.

Recognizing her gaze, Alfred looked up and placed the portrait back on the mantle. "He's a handsome guy."

"Was." She corrected and handed him the glass. "Rodger was a really great guy." She found herself looking back out at the snow-crested window and then went back to the kitchen.

"What happened to him?" Matthew asked, turning around in his seat.

Rose looked up, taking her mug of wine and brushed her tongue over the sharp points of her teeth, needing a slight distraction from the sudden thickening of her throat. "He was, uh, shot while in Germany. In '45." She looked down at the wine in her cup and became silent. A hand on her shoulder made her look up again, seeing Alfred next to her. She gave a bittersweet smile and sighed. "Ah, look. I've ruined the mood. What shall we listen to?"

Sweeping back into the room and grabbing the records, she picked on and placed it onto the record player, shutting off the radio quietly. Quickly the soft trumpet and jazz fell out and into the room, the quick beat of _Skokiaan_, which was maybe inappropriate for winter, but great for rubbing away the damp mood, left Rose smiling softly and she sat on the floor –after hushing the offers to change places on the couch– while falling into different topics like hockey, theater, literature, sports and anything else their minds could think of. At one point Alfred had pointed out that the mistletoe hung over Francis and Arthur's heads, which had resulted in more then a few laughs for Rose.

It was when Arthur had threatened to chuck the glass at his head and Rose had feared for her glass while Francis was more concerned for the wine that Alfred had suddenly jumped up.

"Let's make a snowman!"

The room fell silent, even the record coming to an end. "Alfred, It's late."

"So? There's a streetlight outside." He made a 'follow me gesture'. "Aw, come on!" Alfred started to grab his coat, slipping on gloves and a scarf while hopping to the door. He only paused when he saw everyone else sitting down. "Don't be such a big group of downers. Let's go!" With that he ran out of the door, making a bit of a whoosh sound as though he were an airplane. Rose watched him with a strange expression, wondering how she was going to get through having him as her boss.

Standing up with a sigh, Matthew made a gesture to the two other nations to get up. "Come on. He's probably getting started."

Rose got up off the floor to peek out the window to see that yes, Alfred was already getting into making a snowman…along with arguing with the cat in the window across the street.

She watched as they got their coats on and Rose ran to her bedroom, grabbing the coat she had owned and re-sewn forever. She came out with it, grabbing the scarf lying on the counter of the kitchen. "Wait up!"

Arthur, tying up the scarf on his neck and pulling up his gloves glanced to her. "Let me help you into that."

"Oh, I can do it."

"Nonsense." He took the coat from her hands, holding it open and letting her slip into it. She blushed slightly as she began to button it up. "Thank you."

He gave a small smile and turned to harass Francis some more. They all went down the stairs, past the apartments and finally out of the lobby to see Alfred rolling a small ball around on the sidewalk.

"Do you even have enough snow?" Arthur muttered, shoving his hands into the coat pockets.

"Yeah. Maybe." He stopped, looking at the snowball and then looked to Rose, whipping the accumulating snow away from his head. "Rose! 'C'mon over!"

"Yeah?"  
As she stepped carefully through the snow, Rose leaned forward to glance at Alfred. As soon as she came near, he grabbed her forearms and pulled her down into the fluffy and freezing snow. With an 'oof' she had to scrub the snow from her face and glared at the man lying beside her, his arms and legs sliding back and forth as he started to make a snow angel.

He gave a grin at her and she frowned, the snow melting on her head and making her shiver. "Aw don't pout! Snow angels are awesome."

"So are snowballs." Rose took the pre made ball, held it in her hand for a minute, then sent in into his chest.

"Hey!" she giggled and didn't see him scoop up a ball with his large hands until he sent it flying towards her. She ducked at the last second.

And both of them watched as it struck the back of Arthur's head.

With a little 'O' of surprise, Rose waited for Arthur to turn as Alfred just started to laugh, along with Francis' hidden chuckle.

The fury Rose saw in his eyes made her duck just in time to miss another snowball as it struck her boss in the face. Alfred launched a volley blindly and she followed it to see it smack Matthew in the arm, to which he tried to throw a hit back at Alfred, but instead hit Francis' back. A war of snow soon fell out and Rose chuckled as she was hit and returned her own shots.

She laughed along with everyone for a while, letting all the negative feelings she had felt earlier slough off and melt away like the snow falling down her back. And it was while Arthur was diving behind the trashcan to miss a combined attack from Francis and Alfred that their fun ended in the form of the window across the street opening and a nearly purple faced man screaming out–"It's the morning! Get the hell out of the streets before I call the cops!"

Rose let out a squeak and turned to run back to her room, hearing footsteps fall behind her. When they had all come to her living room, Rose smiled and grabbed a towel, handing it to the men while going to her room to change. She ended up pulling on an old dress and came back out to see them still dressed in their coats, hair a little dryer.

"I think it's time we go," Matthew said and thanked her for the night. Francis and Arthur did so too until it was just her and Alfred.

Alfred paused at the door and Rose leaned against the doorframe, towel in hand while crossing her arms over her chest. "Thanks for coming over."

"I kind of felt you were lonely. I'm not kidding though when I said that the other guys couldn't get home though."

Rose hummed and watched him fluff up his wet hair. "Wait, what do you mean 'felt'?"

"Oh, part of being a nation thingy." Alfred waived his hand. "I guess. Arthur told me once that it happens when we hang out with a person for a while."

"What, so you can 'feel' me?"

Alfred snorted. "That sounded a lot dirtier then I think you meant."

She wacked his arm lightly, "Go to bed. I'll see you in the office after New Years."

"Night Rose."

"Goodnight Alfred."

Going back into her room, Rose stopped the record and let the apartment fall into silence. She paused at the mantle, about to gather the wayward glasses and plates to give Rodger's picture a light kiss. " Thanks Rodger," she said, looking out of the dark window. "Thank you."

* * *

_**December 1957**_

Sitting on the roof of the apartment building, Rose gazed up at the star filled night eyes squinting to see Orion over the many lights of the city. Back home in Maine it was so much easier to see all the stars that almost seemed to light up the night. Now she was tucked up in two thick woolen blankets so she could latch onto enough warmth to stay outside.

Hearing the door to the roof creak, she looked up in surprise as it slowly opened.

"What are you doing here?"

Frank gave a small grin, and moved about the snow to come to her side, crouching down and took his hat off with a mock bow. "I heard you were alone tonight."

"I thought you were in California." Rose moved over slightly and he sat on the dry patch of ground she had made and pulled the edge of the blankets over him.

"I was, but I wanted to be back on Christmas to see you."

She gave a smile and then leaned into his frame, glad he was much warmer then the blankets. "I'm glad you came."

"How come you never go to Maine?"

Rose stayed silent for a while, looking at the stars and then pulled the hat further down over her head. "Too many memories. I'd rather stay here."

"With me?"

Rose looked up at him and gave him a small kiss to his jaw. "Well, yes. But I thought you were going to be in California so it doesn't count."

"Aw, darn." He gave a pout and she smoothed a strand of his chocolate colored hair to the side of his forehead. He leaned down and kissed her and Rose smiled after he pulled away. "Merry Christmas, darling."

"Merry Christmas, Frank."

* * *

Okay, so that was the Christmas interlude. Wheee.

So the next chapter should come out relatively soon, I can't promise anything, but I figured it was best to post a chapter then have everyone wait for a long time. So the hints from chapter nine still apply to chapter 11, but I'm not saying anything, though you all seem to be thinking the same thing when it comes to Frank and Alfred...

Oh yeah, so I do realize that Yellow fever wasn't a pandemic during 1778, and if I wanted to be accurate it should have been small pox, but all those diseases were going around since the war was on going. And from what I remember the yellow fever was really, really horrible.

OKAY. NOW IT IS TIME TO THANK THE SUPER DUPER TIME AND SPACE BENDING AWESOMENESS AND TOTALY COOL WICKED EPIC AND KIND PEOPLE WHO ARE KNOWN AS SUCH:

**Lumoa, cross-over-lover232, Seileach, just another fma fan, Hikari Kame, RubberChi, LuckyNumbers, PrussianAwesomeness, candy4yourEYEZ, Tea-PartyCrasher, , **and** Axxi** :D

PS. THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS


	11. Chapter 10 pt 1

**Hey everyone! I managed to update! AWESOME. So. I am cursed. As soon as I left you all off with me being uber sick and hand broken, I go on crutches. *Sigh* But with being unable to walk means that I got a lot of time to write! Yay! So I hope this is an apology for being so late with updates and still a continuation of the fifties until I squeeze the life out of it's little time span.  


* * *

_October 1958_**

"Rose?"

"Yes Alfred?" Rosemary looked at the assortment of fruit on the stand before her, testing out the weight while glancing at her boss, waiting for him to continue.

For a minute, he stood awkwardly in the aisle of the small grocery store and picked up an orange before tossing it into the air and catching it swiftly, bright summer eyes cloudy in thought. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Rose continued to wait as she then placed three oranges into her basket.

"You and Frank have been dating for a really long time, right?"

She hummed, turning to walk towards the bread section a few rows down, brown eyes studying the young looking man carefully. "Why do you ask?"

He said nothing, fiddling with a loose button on a rare button down shirt. With a heavy sigh, Rose turned to pick out a loaf of rye bread, comparing prices quickly with the white bread a shelf away. "How do you...how did…" He stopped, pulling his glasses away and grinding the heel of his palm into closed eyes, muttering 'stupid, stupid' quietly.

Rose watched in confusion, not sure what was going on. She turned to walk towards the dairy next, watching as Alfred slowly trailed behind her. "How did I do what?" She plucked a carton of eggs up, opening the cardboard to see the condition of the brown chicken eggs.

"How did you, well, how did you impress him? Like…how did you get him to fall in love with you?" He paused, not looking at her and focused on a display of Twinkies, a cardboard cutout of Twinkie the Kid standing proudly over the products. "How did you manage to tell him you loved him?"

Rose stopped, placing the eggs back down and turning to her nation with a semi-critical eye. "Tell him I loved him?"

He didn't move, still finding the display interesting. Rose grabbed the eggs, then took a hold of his hands and placed the carton carefully into his hands. "Hold this please." She murmured and began to grab a carton of milk. The fact that Alfred's hand's had been shaking slightly didn't go past her, but she didn't feel it right to discuss it in the grocery store. Not if her thoughts were correct.

The blonde went to the counter, not saying a word to Alfred and paid for all her items, batting Alfred's hands away as he tried to take her groceries and informing him that it was his duty to make sure the eggs found their way home to her fridge.

So they walked side by side. Once Rose looked away from the sidewalk, lost in her thoughts to see Alfred looking downright _miserable_. She frowned, but looked back at the cement. When they got to her apartment building, she ushered him inside, only stopping once as she argued with the elder woman on the floor beneath her that she was only imagining the sound of a cat coming from her room every night.

Once inside her home, she went into the kitchen, pulling the food out and putting it away as America looked at the eggs in his hands still. It was too quiet. Rose glanced back at Alfred, tucking a red apron over her work attire and began to measure out the coffee she had ground that morning, making enough to make four cups and filled it with cold water to the right level. Plugging in the electric coffee maker, Rose silently busied herself and took out two plates, listening to them clatter as she placed them on the small solitary table by the window. "Sit down Alfred."

"You're angry."

She turned around, hands on her hips. The coffee began to bubble and percolate quietly behind her back. "Why would you think that?"

"You've been quiet." Alfred looked down again to the table, eggs still in his calloused fingers. "You're only quiet when you get mad."

"I'm not mad, America. I just think it's better to talk about these things at home with a cup of coffee and a slice of cake, right?" She slid a covered platter out of the fridge, unveiling a partly cut chocolate cake. Smiling, she cut a piece and served it to Alfred, taking the eggs away from his grasp as he looked up baffled.

"You couldn't have mentioned that earlier?"

She hummed with a shrug, cutting a smaller piece for herself and tucked the cake into the corner, knowing it would be cut again shortly. The coffee slowed down, the rich aroma smelling though the room and easing all tensions. Once two cups were at the table and another slice was cut for Alfred, she sat down and studied him carefully.

"Why are you asking?"

Foreign emotions sparked in his eyes and he took a sip of the coffee. "I need…help."

"With who?"

America looked at the plate, golden hair shadowing his eyes. "I'd rather not say Rose."

A sigh fell through her lips. "I was drunk."

"What?"

"The night I finally told Frank I loved him, I was drunk." A wry smile wrapped around her lips, tugging upwards that never reached her eyes. "Not very romantic."

"Well, how did you get him to like you?"

"Are you interested in someone?"

Alfred said nothing and Rose looked at the crumbs and stain of chocolate frosting. "Be bold Alfred. What are you asking for help for?"

"I want to ask…someone on a date."

Rose looked up, dark brown meeting cautious blue. "You're over three hundred years old and you're asking for dating advise?"

"Aw come on Rose!" he whined, waving one hand in the air and forcing his coffee to dangerously slop near the rim. "I just want to impress, well….I want to impress him" The last of the sentence was said in a hush and Rose shook her head.

"Be yourself and for one, stop acting like I'm going to beat you for liking men."

He snorted, but stilled slightly. She had just found out recently about America's…preference…and it was still hard for her to fully grasp. But that didn't mean she didn't love him still, or any less, it was just a tad hard to swallow.

"You know I'm a bit hopeless in romance. Honestly, Frank does all the work. I just cook. You couldn't have asked another nation?"

When he didn't answer, it was more then enough reason.

"Alfred F. Jones. Are you trying to date _Russia_?"

He got up at that, shooting out from the chair and starting to pace like a frantic child. "I know! I know! I- I just…well." He swallowed and began to fidget with his glasses and hair, still pacing back and forth while Rose watched intently. "I know I should hate him, god we're at war and he's such a big jerk and I can't stand that stupid sugary grin he has on when he insults me – but he's also really strong and powerful. He's smart too when you overlook that Commie shit he's spewing all the time and well he's hardworking and muscular and…" he paused, rubbing at his eyes with an ancient fatigue, "I'm just tired of always having to watch out of the corner of my eye. To always have to look at a back and know it can't be. I'm– I'm supposed to be the brave one, yeah? So… I should damn the consequences and go for it…shouldn't I?"

He wrung his hands as he finished talking and Rose stood up. "I…"

"It's wrong. I should give up. Forget it. Thanks Rose."

He turned to go and her brown eyes widened in surprise. "Hey!"

"Thanks for listening. Guess, I'll head home–"

He was cut off as Rose uncharacteristically slammed her fist onto the table, the clatter of plates accenting her strike. "Sit." He listened curtly and she nodded slowly. "Now…hush up and listen to me Alfred." He snapped his mouth shut and waited warily as she closed her eyes.

"I'm your secretary…and I suppose an advisor in one way or another so let me say this bit. You should not be having any sort of romantic relation with Russia." She could feel…something negative radiate from him, something forlorn and she cracked one eye open. "But as your friend I must say if you think it will make you happy, go for it."

Silence. "Really?"

"What do you mean, 'really'? Did you think I'd go on a rampage spewing about how idiotic it was? He's Russia. Not a serial killer." Rose paused and tried again. "What I mean to say is, he's another nation right? And relations change between countries all the time…I think. So, uh– go out and try. Try it as Alfred and Ivan. And if the world doesn't approve…then damn it," she squeaked slightly.  
"All is fair in love and war." She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded sage like. "Nothing can grow if you starve it from the start."

Opening her eyes once again, she looked to see Alfred nearly beaming at her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just….just don't ever tell me any details if this works out."

He just gave her a smile. "Okay. Thanks Rose."

"What are friends for?"

A brilliant smile filled his face, giving off an almost glowing feeling, and Rose sighed into her cup, feeling much more at ease with him smiling then sulking like a beaten puppy. She continued to drink from her cup, while America played with a spoon and making her cringe as he curled and bended the metal absentmindedly.

"Now what's wrong?"

"Nothing, why?"

"Stop lying to me, please."

He looked up slightly startled, following her wary gaze to the mangled spoon in his grasp. "Sorry." He started to try and smooth the cricks out from it. "I was thinking about, uh, how to start it?"

Rose furrowed her brows together, getting another cup of hot coffee. "Well…"

"What would you do?"

Her cheeks turned pink and she cleared her throat. "What would I do to woo Russia?" When he nodded, she settled back into her chair with her legs tucked under her. "I, well I suppose I would start off with something I know is important to him. For example, should I ever had fancied the thought of asking him out, I would have started by giving him a sunflower."

"Sunflower?" Alfred gazed into the dredges of his coffee with a thoughtful look.

"Uh, yeah. There's a restaurant a few blocks away that has really good Russian food too. I've seen him there once or twice before."

Leaning back, hands furrowed into hiss hair, Alfred tilted his head slightly while giving a soft smile. "Sounds like you've put thought into this."

A strangled sound of denial fell past her lips and she muttered something into the cup of coffee, the rim destroying all hope of discerning her words. Cheeks a ruddy pink, she finally glared at him when he chuckled lightly. "Oh, shush."

"I can't help you though. The whole point is to be yourself and do what you do. What I would do to romance someone is completely different then what you would do." She paused, smudging the residue of her dark lipstick off the cup. "It'll be harder for you too," the tone was sad and she glanced up, only to see the cracking and falling of his grin.

"Yeah." He admitted and she stopped, about to speak.

"Yeah," she finally echoed and stayed silent in the warmth of her house and the presence of good friendship.

* * *

Two weeks later, while she was filing and filling a box about to be shipped off to DC, she saw Ivan looming by the door. "Can I help you?" She asked cautiously, looking over her shoulder as she reached for a red binder at the top of the cabinet.

"I wanted to ask you for something."

"Er…" wobbling slightly in her heels she grazed the binder with her fingertips, still eyeing Ivan's impassive form. She wasn't sure how to act around him since his and Alfred's "Titanic-ly failed" date last week. Jones had been ducking around corners and avoiding him more then usual. Almost all of the other nations had noticed that something was going on between them and Matthew had come to question just what exactly had happened.

Not that Rose knew though, all she had known was the miserable cloud that seemed to hang over his head when he moped around the office, and his quite brief retelling of their date had been filled with embarrassment and woe. In summary, he had done everything wrong, and nothing had worked out…hence the sulking.

"I suppose so?" she finally said and jumped, pulling the binder out of its slot by a fraction.

"I have been trying to talk to America. He has been avoiding me."

"Ah, yes. I suppose he is." Jumping again, the binder slid out further. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she frowned as she caught sight of a few grey hairs she had missed from coloring last week. One last jump and the binder slid out, nearly hitting her face before she caught it and twirled around to face the nation. "So how can I help you?"

"I want you to get Alfred alone so I may speak with him."

Rose's eyes flickered from him to the empty desk. "Please don't think me rude, Ivan, but is this about the date or is this for political reasons?"

His violet gaze became colder and Rose twitched slightly. "Does it matter?"

"Yes," her voice was a squeak at first, but she straightened her shoulders. The older looking woman was more then prepared to go into her 'mother bear' mode should Ivan show any signs of violence towards her nation. "I'm afraid it means a lot actually."

He was standing in front of her now, full height making her feel small and delicate. Yet, she stayed there stubbornly, eyes hard. He seemed to be analyzing her and eventually said, "It is about the date."

"Ah." She nodded. "Okay then. But I don't know what I can do to help you. Any meeting I could make would be missed, and any guidance would be ignored. As soon as your name comes up he'll run away." At that she frowned, wondering just where her boss was anyway. Probably hiding in the kitchen pantry with Latvia.

"I know that." Russia leaned against her desk and she finally noticed that he had a pipe in his hands. She stared at it before looking back at Ivan who was now smiling sweetly. "But I'm sure he'll come out if he thought you were in harm's way."

"What?"

"I'll give you a ten second head start, and I've already talked to the other nations, so they'll stay out of the way."

"What." Rose clutched the binder to her chest, staring at Ivan in hysterical confusion. "W-wait. What do you mean you'll give me a–"

"One…two…three…."

" –ten second head start, wait…why are you count–"

"…Six…seven…"

"H-hey…uh, no need to be threatening….and– AMERICA!" She gave an 'eep' as she grabbed the broom sitting forlornly in the corner and found Ivan blocking her way, pipe bouncing in his palm. She darted past a swish of the metal and began to run down the hall, knowing her way very well thanks to the weekly chasing sessions she had with Prussia's proposals for dates. "ALFRED! I SWEAR TO GOD!" She ducked when she heard a light laugh. Rounding the corner so fast that she skidded, Rose nearly barreled into the wall, but pushed off it and continued to sprint through the halls.

"You are a very fast runner."

She turned back only slightly to see Russia keeping up with her, the pipe hoisted in the air and she let out a strangled scream. "Alfred!" She had idiotically ended up in a corner and brought her broom up as defense. Russia just shook his head and she glanced towards the office next to her. Spain's…wasn't it? She didn't really know if Russia was really trying to hurt her or just frighten her so much that her nation would be able to tell she feared for her life. She parried with the broom and then, like a fish, darted around Ivan and took off back down the hall.

Seeing the easy look on Russia's face, she muttered a prayer and started to head to the rooftop. It was mush easier to run for your life down the stairs then up them, but Rose burst through the door without rolling her ankle or getting crushed by the pipe intermittently swinging by her head. "Alfred!" She tried again, huffing out the plead for help between a huff of air from running.

The air was cold and windy up on the rooftop, and she skidded to a stop on the gravel. She closed her eyes and stood ridged for a second before turning around, the broom trembling slightly in her hands as her gaze met Ivan's. "I am getting too old for all of this," she said with her tone slightly hysterical.

"Da. Perhaps." He brought the pipe down and she parried it in desperation, but was amazed that the boom didn't disintegrate under his blow and instead let out a soft '_tack_' as the two objects met.

She glanced at him stupefied for a second and then took a step back, eyes widening more as he disarmed her and sent her down to the ground with a well placed tap to her legs. With a blink, a smile filled her lips and she covered her head, "America!"

The door to the roof opened with a slam and Rose darted a peak from under her arms to see Alfred looking far more then pissed. She didn't move though, knowing that she wasn't in danger– the whole point had just been to frighten her and lure out Alfred, not hurt her…she hoped.

"Ivan." Rose winced at the cold anger in his voice and looked up at Russia, who looked impassive except for the quick slip of a smile that flickered away faster then Italy finding out there was pasta on the next floor. "Leave her alone."

"No."

"Russia…."

Rose glanced between the two nations and gasped lightly as Ivan pulled her up. She looked at him carefully before looking to Alfred again, their eyes meeting before she broke the gaze quickly.

"Hey." She whispered, "This is for the hope you work this out and I never want to hear about this again." Rose then did what she would forever blush about and forever deny. She brought her hand up to her brow, the model of a damsel in distress. Eyes fluttering and head tilting back as she swooned, Rose collapsed as she sighed, "Help!" and allowed herself to fall into a dainty heap onto the ground. One eye cracked open and she caught a mixture of amusement and bewilderment on Russia's face before Alfred stormed over and grabbed his coat lapel. Ivan shoved him away and stalked to him, moving out of hear range for Rose and so the secretary amused herself by thinking about how that act deserved an Oscar.

It seemed to be taking a while though and Rose opened her eyes, turning her head slightly to see Alfred and Ivan talking in the corner on the other side of the roof. Alfred placed one hand on Ivan's arm and Rose took that as a signal to get out of there.

With one graceful sweep, she was off the ground, dusted off and stalking down the stairs to go to the kitchen, the future of a cup of coffee or tea very, very likely in her future. Maybe with a side of whiskey.

* * *

_**January 1958**_

"Congratulations!" Rose laughed and gave a hug to her boss, parting in a jovial laugh. He looked at her, proudly and almost glowing in victory.

"Thanks Rosy."

"I'll let that one slide, Jones," She muttered, patting his bomber jacket clad shoulder and went to open the bottle on the table. Twisting the wire hood to the champagne off, she tried to pull the cork out.

Still straining the cork out of its narrow neck, Rose watched Alfred move about the office filled with a few nations congratulating him for his addition of land. To the secretary, he almost seemed to glow with power, health and vitality. It was as if the addition of the state made him that much greater, that much more _America_. Watching warily though as Alfred came to a sour and depressed looking Arthur, she growled at the bottle and slipped it between her legs for a better grasp.

"Ah, it seems as if that bottle has finally found it's home. Wine bottles fit so snugly in between a woman's thighs."

She turned a narrowed gaze and met amused red eyes. "Prussia. To what do I owe the honor?" She tugged again, the cork still remaining stubborn.

"Well I thought the awesome me would grace you with my presence."

Rose looked askance at him, and then focused on the bottle of champagne. "Why don't you go hide in the sink cupboard with Latvia? Never mind, you'll terrify the poor man."

"Whoa. Do I detect jealousy? It's alright." He paused and patted her shoulder. "Not everyone can be as awesome as me. You'll just have to learn to live with the truth."

She focused her biting remarks instead on the cork and it slid out with a gratifying 'pop'. She sighed and pulled the green bottle away, before any foam or any jokes from Gilbert's mouth could come out.

She moved to pour the alcohol into one of the several flutes waiting and felt a warm hand creep onto her back. "So, uh. This is what it's like everyday?"

She turned to Frank, a wicked grin on her face and nodded, batting her lashes slightly. "Something like that. Mostly it's boring paperwork though. I only tell you the interesting parts." She kept pouring the fizzing liquid, looking up as one glass was pulled away from under her nose.

"You look lovely today," She gave a smile to Francis, and he smiled back gently.

"You look dapper, I must say. Francis, you remember Frank, right?"

"Ah, yes. We were just talking." Francis took a sip of the champagne and Rose turned to see Frank loosening his tie slightly.

"Yeah…indeed we did."

She cocked an eyebrow at that, sensing a hidden meaning. "And what were you two gentlemen talking about?"

Frank looked to the Frenchman and then back to Rose, an easy smile on his lips. "Nothing I haven't been told before darling." He gave her a peck to the cheek and France cocked his head slightly with a sigh. "It seems Arthur is getting restless with all this talk of expansion. I better calm him down before he starts accosting Antonio about his armada."

"My Armada!" came the pained whine from across the room and Francis shook his head, stalking forward into the crowd. "Too late."

"Armada?" Frank asked, looking to his girlfriend in question.

"Inside joke darling." Bushing back curled hair; she looked into his light green eyes. "What did you mean 'nothing I haven't heard before'?"

His eyes shifted and he pulled the neck of the bottle up just as she was about to allow the champagne to overflow. "Oh, you know the usual. If I hurt you in any way there are contacts they can use. My personal favorite was how I would be pistol whipped, thrown into cement and have eternal dreams with the fishes." He slung an arm around her waist and she frowned at the almost claiming nature of it. "They all seem really close to you."

"Well, I would hope so. I have worked here for almost thirteen years, love." He hummed into her ear and Rose blushed to her roots. "Now, come on Frank. Its just camaraderie."

"Ah. Did I hear something about Comrades?"

Frank turned around and Rose felt him stiffen slightly. Rose simply picked up one of the flutes and held it out as she turned around. "No, Ivan. Just talking about friends. Champagne?"

He looked at the bronze bubbling liquid and shook his head. "No."

"Okay." And Rose turned around looking back to the room. She saw Canada and Ukraine talking to Lithuania and Poland, Sealand standing sleepily by Ukraine's side. With the glasses poured she lifted her flute to Frank, an action he mirrored.

"To America," Frank said, eyes on the American flag hanging in the corner.

"To America," Rose echoed, her eyes on Alfred's back, the inevitable and powerful 50 on the back of his jacket glaring back. A sudden vision encapsulated her mind, simply caused by glancing to the broad shoulders of her nation. So clear it was that she could taste the salt of the ocean of New England, felt the warm sun of the south, the clear air of the plains, the dry sand of the southwest, and the damp earth of the upper west coast. An old land, filled with vitality, youth and dreams.

Alfred turned around, as though sensing eyes on him and smiled at Rose.

She gave a feeble one back, draining the glass in one gulp, the bubbles stinging her nose and tongue.

* * *

_**May 1959**_

Rose glanced down at the phone in her hands, a soft sigh tumbling from her lips as she moved to hang the device up. Alfred was in Alabama, something about civil unrest, and had been away from work for a week. She had called him to make sure he was fine, to rest her worried thoughts. Luckily, he had responded in the affirmative while informing her that he was going to stay in DC for a few nights before coming back to the office– oh, and not to worry. Everything was A-OK.

Of course the last time he had said that he had come back with a healing black eye.

So it was with a nervous twitch and prickling skin that Rose moved away, tucking a loose strand of hair away behind her ear. She glanced up to the black clock in the corner of the room, noting with and irritated frown that the time was wrong. Grabbing her chair, she dragged it over to the wall and hiked her long skirt up to hoist her leg up onto the chair, standing on the chair with a slight wobble.

Plucking the circle off from the wall, the American woman began to twist the knob on the back of the clock, watching the hands slowly cross over themselves as she coerced them into the correct time. Glancing down to her wristwatch, an old scratched thing her father had given her for her thirteenth birthday, she double checked the time before starting to place the clock back onto the wall when a subtle movement from the corner of her eye caused her to look towards the window.

As she stood on the chair, hands poised in the air with the clock, it finally clicked what exactly was wrong. The tree outside the window was shaking roughly while its counterparts were standing as still as death. A quiet breath was sucked in and she leaned towards the window, trying to discern what was forcing the tree to shake violently.

"_Sumimasen_, Is Alfred-san here?"

Rose spun, the chair wobbling just enough that she toppled off the curved wood and down with a surprised squeak to the floor. Looking up at the ceiling dazed, she head a rustle and saw Japan come over as she sat up, using the wall to pull herself up as she blushed from the klutzy moment.

"Ah, sorry."

"_Daijou_– Are you alright?" His dark eyes looked at her curiously, glancing at her though she somehow knew he was just making sure she wasn't injured.

"Yeah. Thanks." Awkwardly shifting, Rose darted her eyes to look at the tree that had gone still. Brown met even darker brown eyes and she patted her hair. "Y-You were asking for Alfred, right?"

"_Hai_." Japan, which was what she thought of him as rather then his given name as Alfred had once introduced him as a few months ago, flashed a batch of folders. "I need Alfred-san's signature."

Rose walked over to the window, glancing at the tree in confusion. Glancing back to him she started to prop it open, struggling with the swollen wood frame. "He's actually away right now. He should be back within the end of the week though."

Kiku's hand brushed against her as he grasped the notch of the window, tugging it open with a swift and graceful movement. The cool air of budding spring blew across her face and she turned fully to the nation. "Ah. Um…_a -arigatou Honda-sama_." She gave a small miniscule bow, looking up in confusion to see Japan's face in the lightest shade of pink. In response, she went slightly rigid at seeing him quiet. She was trying to learn and replicate the other nation's customs to be a little more welcoming and worldly, but maybe she had messed up?

"There no need to use_ sama_, Williams-_san_. _San_ is more then fine." He shuffled the folder and Rose reached out to take them. There was an awkward pause where he didn't hand them over and she began to internally panic.

Finally, the folders were transferred into her hands and Rose gave a weak smile. "I'll make sure Alfred signs these first thing once he comes back. You might as well take the day off now, most of the others have gone for the weekend."

He gave her a nod and a hint of a smile. "I have many things to do. Thank you though, Williams-san." And he left as quietly as he had come.

Rose shuffled the papers in her arms, looking lost as she stared at the door. Clucking out a tune softly, she milled around the office to continue work, going back to move the chair back to her spot at the desk. A few minutes went by, mostly filled by her going through the paperwork and seeing if there was anything she herself could pass on. She grabbed her pen, chewing on the tip in nervous concentration even though she had no idea why she felt that way.

A crack from outside disrupted her steady reading and analyzing and Rose blinked, turning to the window and poking her head out. Two legs were wrapped around the trunk of the tree as someone was leaning into the office down below. "What on earth?" she questioned aloud, looking down at what she was able to identify as a man. Whose office was below? All of her confused musings became cut off hearing a cry and two rounds of a gun bark into the quiet day. Groping the edge of the ledge and leaning out, she saw the legs slither into the office, winking out of sight.

"Oh God." Now she remembered, running out into the hall and rushing for the stairs, just whose office was below America's. "Francis!" She skidded around the corner, seeing all the offices dark and closed tightly. Of course, she realized in a panic, tumbling down the stairs without any other thought, Friday afternoons was when everyone took off who was done with meetings. She pushed the door open, slamming it open with her shoulder with such harshness that her teeth clattered and ran out into the hall.

Sounds of struggling suddenly went silent and Rose halted with a tremble at the open door. France was on the ground, holding his shoulder and looking fiercely at the intruder– a wan, over worked looking grey man. Her eyes flickered as she stayed in the shadow of the hallway, looking for any sign of another nation who could help.

"Tell me where the American office is." The man was speaking now, his voice an angry sort of calm.

France just glared, tilting his head up in a daring gesture. Rose stifled a gasp as the attacker leveled his gun, hand twitching slightly in the urge to shoot. Apparently she didn't silence her horror enough for the man rounded on her, twisting the gun in her direction. "Hands up!"

Her hands shot into the air while her limbs shivered in a locked and crippling fear of having a gun aimed at her head.

"You idiot," Francis hissed, face appalled at seeing her.

"You shut up." It was followed with a kick and Rose winced. "Maybe you can tell me miss. Where is the American office?"

"D-Down stairs. In the renovated section of the b-basement." Terrified, Rose could feel the fear welling up, her eyes glistening. "Please don't shoot." O God. There was blood.

The attacker looked back to Francis and then to Rose, stalking closer to her. He smelled of cat food and booze, Rose tried to shy away without moving. "Are you a secretary?"

"Y-yes."

"My wife was a secretary." He cocked his head and then whipped around, aiming the gun angrily at France who had only shifted lightly. "Tie him up."

"What?"

A shot went off and Rose cried out, hands clapping over hear head and cowering into her frame as debris floated over and onto her head. "Now, miss."

Shaking, she took a step forward, heart leaping in an uneven staccato beat. Kneeling by Francis, she glanced up at the attacker as he made a motion to the phone. He told her, still using that calm voice of his, to use the phone cord and she pulled it from the wall, hands shaking. Francis looked at her calmly and held his hands up for her with a strained smile.

"Try not to cut off my circulation?"

All she could do was nod timidly, looping the cord around his wrists with the growing feel of bile in her throat. Her stomach turned as she made it tighter per angry command. "I'm so sorry," she finally croaked out, a tear shed from seeing the dark blooming of blood in his shoulder, staining his arm as it dripped downwards.

"Get up. You stay here and shut up or I'll put a final bullet in your head." He then grabbed Rose's arm, hauling her off the ground and shoving her to the door. "Start leading miss. I really don't want to hurt you." And so Rose lead, feet filled with stone and a heart clenched in icy terror. Every step was filled with the knowing that when she brought him down to the bowels of the building, he'd probably kill her for misleading him. The tendrils of her mother's religion crept into her mind and she found herself muttering over and over a simple prayer.

"Just down those stairs and to the right. All the way in the back." Rose swallowed heavily and stared into vacant grey eyes. The man nodded, looking to the closet next to her. He wretched it open, and pushed her inside as she let out a strangled cry of alarm. Fingers scratching into the wood as he locked the door, Rose listened to his muted words. "If you told me everything right you'll be safe here."

The rest of the threat didn't have to be voiced to be understood.

_If you lied to me I can find you. _

* * *

OHMYGOSHWHATNONOTFRANCIS. So. WICKED LONG PART ONE IS DONE. :)

I shall explain in part two...I think most of this was self explanatory. I hope to get part two out within this week, which should happen unless I anger the universe more.

OKAY. NOW IT IS TIME TO THANK THE SUPER WICKED AWESOME MATTER WARPING FANTASTIC A+ MATERIAL FUN KIND PATIENT AND JUST GERNERAL WICKED WONDERFUL PEOPLE WHO ARE KNOWN AS SUCH:

**FullmetalShinigami21096, Lumoa, just another fma fan (x2), Axxi, Ookami Aya, , cross-over-lover232, LuckyNumbers, candy4yourEYEZ, rultas, ficfan3484, **and** Tea-PartyCrasher **:D

PS THANKS FOR BEING ALL SO PATIENT AND SUPPORTIVE. YOU'RE ALL AMAZING

PPS ALL YOUR REVIEWS ARE WICKED!


	12. Chapter 10 pt 2

Woah! Such a response guys! You are all amazing for all the wicked reviews and such, I was happy to hear you all enjoyed it, and hated the ending. That, along with my classes being canceled, allowed me to get this out so quickly. I swear, Nana Rose is helping my typing speed increase by tenfold. And now for the conclusion of Chapter 10 pt 2.

_Chris

* * *

She could see the shadow under the door leave, his footsteps growing quieter until they disappeared and she was left alone in the darkness of the small closet. She tried calling out for help, in vain as she knew more then well. Almost all of the nations had left, which was a blessing in Rose's heart.

Groping around, she found only an assortment of cans, a few bottles and a broom and mop. She blindly grasped the broom, smooth and worn handle resting in her palm as she curled her fingers harshly around it and tried to slam the door open.

Rose tried to batter it down, attacking the door with a mixture of pries, brutal slams and fevered prayers. Precious time was trickling away and Rose pathetically crashed her fist against the door, falling to her knees in knowing the gunman would come back after finding nothing but a maze of pipes and an assortment of spiders.

"Please. Please open up." She banged on the wood, forehead connecting to the wood as she listened to nothing but her breath in the dense darkness. "God. Please." Bitterly, when nothing came after a minute of ragged breathing, she crashed her fist to the door again.

"Ve~ did you hear something?"

The words were so muffled, so faint– and yet Rose took both hands to the door calling out, "Help! Let me out!"

A pause came from outside the door and for one horrible second Rose thought that they had simply left. She wanted to weep when she heard a gruff, "Stand back from the door." She listened eagerly and curled against the wall, listening as the door shuddered with force and suddenly a keyhole of light filled the room as the doorknob was snapped off. Easily, the door opened in a wide arc and blindly the American secretary propelled herself into foreign arms.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," she sobbed, her words muttered into a shoulder and she clutched tightly for a long time.

"Rose? Ve, Ludwig, is she hurt?"

Rose blinked at that, pulling away and patting her eyes to both clear away the frightened tears and to shut off the valve of hysterics. "G-Germany?"

The tall blond man was looking at her warily, as though she were a ticking bomb. Rose looked at him carefully and then to Italy who seemed to be hovering right by. Mind thrown for a loop, she whipped her head back at Germany who seemingly…flinched?

"T-There's a gunman on the loose in the building! He went down to the basement after he locked me in the basement. He already shot Francis! Oh no." She covered her mouth and looked back towards where all the offices lay.

The information sent all wariness away from Germany's demeanor. "I see. Feliciano, go with Ms. Williams to check up on Francis. I'll go down and stop him."

"No!" Both Italy and Germany stared at her for the outburst. "I-I mean, you…you could get hurt alone and the medical kit is in the basement anyway along with the intercom. We should warn anyone else in the building."

Ludwig had gotten the same look at confusion on his face, more pronounced due to his deep-set blue eyes, at the mention of safety coming from Rose. She merely tugged at her hair and looked terrified at the door leading to the basement of the building. "Look. I…I thank you for saving me. I truly do. But someone has to warn anyone else in here of the danger. And I'm sure France will be helped with proper medical help rather then a wad of tissues or a small Band-Aid. S-So I'm going down with y-you."

"_Germania_," Italy said, but it was a patient and waiting for a response. Like an old friend waiting for the other's inevitable answer.

"Fine. But you stay behind Italy and I." He turned to Feliciano, his gloved fingers pulling out a handgun from the depth of his coat. "I assume you have your gun too?"

"Of course!" the teenage looking man said, pulling out a sleek black handgun and Germany just looked at him warily while loading his own gun. "I always have it even though _fratello _says not to, but it's always so much easier to deal with the family if you have one!"

Rose looked at Italy just as warily as Germany. The sight of guns in both their hands made her uneasy and something raw and dangerous bubble in the pit of her stomach. Thirteen years since the end of the war and she still couldn't forget, could she? But Germany saving her seemed to have acted like a balm, she noted silently, for there was no noticeable outward anger.

"Alright…let's go."

Rose followed behind her, smiling nervously when Italy gave her an encouraging and child like grin. The steps were well illuminated, so that was all well, but Rose couldn't stop the light tremble from seeing everything below obscured by pipes, boxes and an occasional wall.

"Do you know where the intercom system is?" Germany asked her is a sharp whisper.

"Yes. It's to the left of the boiler. Should be against that wall actually."

"Ve~ Ludwig. I don't like it down here." Italy seemed to grip onto Germany and shake like a leaf. Rose cocked her head at the sight and then glanced at the semi lit basement. Somewhere that man was lurking down there.

"Alight. Italy, you go with Ms. Williams. As soon as you get the message and the first aid kit, you get out of here. Understand?"

"Yeah."

Germany nodded and descended to the last step, untangling himself from Feliciano's grasp and veered to the left, gun up to the ceiling. Rose looked to Italy who looked more ready to flee back to the top floor then to walk into the shadowed areas of the basement.

They moved in silence, taking slow steps and Rose looked anxiously at everything around her. A clatter filled the air and suddenly two arms were wrapped around her as she let out a surprised gasp. Brown eyes looked up to the ceiling where a pipe shivered back and forth; emitting the clatter she had heard. Italy was hugging her and their eyes met for a brief second.

"Can we hold hands?" he asked in that airy, almost child like, voice of his.

"S-sure." A warm hand melded into hers, locking between her fingers and helping to keep her down to earth. Rose looked down at their locked hands and gave the ghost of a smile. They could do this. Everything would be alright.

They got to the wall finally and Rose took the key off of the nail embedded into the frame of the door. With a snick, the door fell open and she glanced at Italy, hand still entwined with his.

He however was looking out into the gloom– eyebrows pitched down in the faint expression of worry. She tugged lightly and he turned to her, a watery smile on his lips. "I'll be right here. I think I see Germany."

Rose stopped, looking out at the shadowed areas behind all the boxes and pipes, unable to see anything but shadows. "Okay."

So she crept into the little closet where the intercom system was. Why this building had it down here, she wasn't sure. All she remembered was Alfred once saying that the Basement was meant to be furnished one day for workers should the need come one day. She found the microphone, connected to the small panel in the closet. She turned a small key already lodged in the metal frame and cleared her throat as a red light lazily began to glow.

With a press of a button, she turned the system on and began to speak into it. There was no subtle way of saying this, but she hoped that the panic was kept out of her own voice. "Attention. Attention to all. There is a gunman on the loose in the building. Please make sure offices are emptied and evacuate the building." She paused and added lamely, "This is not a drill."

Her finger was still on the button when she heard, "Ve! Ludwig?"

"Italy!" She snapped, and lunged at him, just as a shot filled the air.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the light of the intercom die, but she focused on Feliciano as he was worming from underneath her. "Ludwig's in trouble!"

"Italy!" She snapped again, getting off him and watching as he jumped up, the gun in his hands held in a manner that in no way spoke of childishness or inexperience. "What makes you say that?" she asked warily, looking around wildly and realizing belatedly that the shot had been farther away.

"I saw him between the pipes! Come on!"

He started running, farther into the gloom and Rose followed as best as she could, neither wanting for anyone to come to harm or to be left alone. Italy stopped though and Rose saw he was watching a showdown between Germany and the unnamed gunman. She nearly let out a strangle cry as he stood vulnerably out in the open and grabbed the back of his collar, dragging him behind a set of crates.

He flailed and nearly fell over, looking at her in surprise with his warm brown eyes. "But Germany –"

"You'll get shot," she whispered back and watched as Italy peeked over the edge of the crate. Her hand was poised to grab his shirt and drag his body back under cover as she listened for something to tell her what was going on.

Finally gaining the nerve to look, she knelt by Italy and peeked around the corner, only seeing the gunman. Italy beside her seemed to be getting antsy. The gunman however, was simply standing there, looking confused.

"All I want to know is where the American office is."

"It wont do you any good. No one is in there this week."

At this her assailant looked sad. "Is that so." He looked at the gun in his hands.

"Drop your gun and place your hands in the air," came Germany's ridged order. Rose only saw the contemplation in the other man's face before she looked wildly at Italy. "He-he's going to shoot Germany!"

"Huh?" Italy looked down at her and something flickered behind those wide eyes. Looking back at the scene, he pouted. "No one hurts Germany!"

He stood up then, waving wildly and the secretary simply gaped. "Hey!"

"Feliciano!"

The gunman seemed so startled, it may have been comical in any other situation, but as he brought his gun down to shoot at Italy, Rose grappled Italy's feet and sent him to the ground. As they lay sprawled behind the boxes, on the other side Germany had tackled the man to the ground, easily overpowering him save for the hand that held the cocked gun.

Italy was up in a flash, like a minnow in a stream, and rushed to Ludwig's side. There was a shot, and Rose clapped her hands over her head in the miniscule prayer for safety. She watched though as Italy pistol-whipped the man, sending him into a heap and helped pulled up Germany with a smile and hug.

"_Germania_~!" he crooned as Rose stood up tentatively, wobbling slightly as her resolve fainted away and she was left with the faint shock of the whole ordeal.

There was a metallic swish and clatter and Germany toed the gun away from the unconscious attacker's body. He seemed a little pink with Italy hanging off of him and looked to Rose.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Thank you. Are you okay?"

"_Ja_." He went to try to pry Italy away, but the nation only said a faint 've' and held on tighter.

Rose smiled, a little out of happiness that this whole ordeal seemed to over, and in nervousness at seeing the two men so close on each other. Her eyes widened though.

"Ah. Germany! You're bleeding!"

He looked at her in confusion, but sighed when Italy blinked and then went into a hyperactive mode at seeing the blood on his shirt.

"Ludwig! Ludwig! Are you okay?"

"I scratched myself on the wall. I didn't get shot, Feliciano. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Do you need to go to the hospital? Do you need a doctor? A medical team?"

"A piece of gauze maybe," Rose replied, giving the unconscious man a wide berth and analyzing Germany's arm. "That's all though. It looks like a scratch." She looked at him carefully. "I can wrap it if you let me grab the first aid."

Germany nodded and sighed again. "Italy, if you can help me find some rope?"

"Okay!"

Rose walked to the other side of the basement, to a metal locker that held the medical and emergency supplies. Choosing a hefty case, one that looked almost over equipped, Rose turn and fled back to where the other nations were.

Of course, she thought it was amazing when she got back and Italy was humming as he tied the gunman up. He seemed at ease tying the knots and she turned to see Germany emptying all the bullets and pocketing them along with the gun. The kit felt heavy in her fingers and she walked slightly stiff towards him, frowning as he looked up upon the clatter of her heels and having the same faint look of confusion on his face like earlier.

"Can I see your arm?"

"_Ja_."

She knelt beside him and rolled his sleeve up, looking at the scratched skin and pulled out a gauze pad. He watched her warily– as though he was wondering if she was going to stab him and Rose wondered just how much animosity she had emitted all these years.

"Hi," she finally said awkwardly. "My name is Rosemary Williams. You can call me Rose. It's nice to meet you." She placed a clean pad on after wiping away the grime the cut had accumulated and began to wrap it quickly.

His bright steel blue eyes narrowed in thought and finally he looked away towards Italy who seemed to have added a few more ropes just for the sake of it. "Ludwig. Nice to meet you."

"I hope we can be friends from now on." She blushed slightly and cleared her throat. "All better."

"_Danke_."

"You're welcome."

"Ve~ Germany! Did I do good?"

Germany looked to the other nation with that of exasperation. "Yes, yes. You did well." Italy's glee was cut short though. "You should have never distracted the gunman though. You could have been shot."

"But he wouldn't have shot me! I didn't do anything."

Rosemary stared at him. "Does he have the innocence of a two year old?"

"_Ja_. He does."

Rose wrapped the bloody supplies away and then nearly smacked herself. "France! Damn it!" She shot up and started to head to the stairs. "He was shot!"

"Brother France is hurt? Oh no!"

A garbled prayer and curse fell from Rose's lips and she clamored towards the staircase, seeing the light from the floor level.

Running through the silent building though, she realized belatedly that Italy was running by her side, a look of worry and panic on his face."I hope he's alright."

"I pray he is," Rose responded, blazing through the next set of stairs and rounding the corner. The hall was dark, all the lights turned off and Rose began to gnaw at her lip. A flash of blue caught her eyes and she was pressed down to the ground, the sound to two distinct metallic clicks reaching her ears. Looking up, terrified, it turned to relief and then anger as she saw England protecting the doorway to France's office, gun poised to shoot while Italy was the same, though he blinked and the gun was down as fast as it had appeared.

"England! You scared me!" Italy cried, his voice in a slight tremble.

Rose just dusted herself off, knowing sooner then later she was going to end up in a weeping ball with everything that had happened today. Or in the mental hospital. Either was likely.

"Right, sorry," Arthur muttered and she caught sight of crimson on his white button down shirt. His usual jacket was missing though.

"France?" She questioned moving forward with the medical kit.

England moved to the side, allowing her in and placing the gun away. "He'll be alright. The bloody idiotic frog."

"Oh Arthur, your pant's are in a bunch only because you had to, and I quote, 'waste perfectly good whiskey' on me."

Rose saw France sitting on the floor, and she sagged in relief. "Oh thank God." She knelt on the floor by him and saw his shoulder had been wrapped. "Are you alright?"

"Ah. _Oui_. I am fine_. Angleterre_ took care of me."

"He'll still need a doctor though. Couldn't remove the bullet."

"Bullet?" Only one?

"One went through all the way. Made it an easy patch job." Arthur cocked one of his massive brows as she looked at him in surprise. "What?"

"Oh, um. Nothing." She looked to France and went shifting though the kit. "There's some pain killers in here if you want."

"_Oui, s'il te plait_."

She took out a bottle with some medicine, unsure of how much to give. Arthur was by her side with a sigh and took the pills from her hands, looked it over once and popped three out. "I've got it from here." He muttered and Rose backed away.

"The gunman?" Francis questioned after swallowing the pills, muttering harshly in French when Arthur began to redress the wound in something other then what must have been his jacket. Arthur just gave him a level headed look that clearly said, 'deal with it' and continued to exchange torn jacket for gauze and antiseptics.

"Italy and Germany dealt with him. He's in the basement immobilized."

"Hm. Nice little speech by the way."

"Oh." Rose blushed and looked to the ground.

France hissed at Arthur something when he put a thick cream on one of the wounds, Arthur not reacting. Francis frowned and turned his blue eyed gaze to Rose. "That was completely idiotic of you earlier. You could have been severely hurt."

"But – I…You had been shot."

"But I am a nation. You are just a human girl, not to sound rude." Their eyes met and Rose tucked her hands together. "We can be near death and still come out fine. You would not."

"I'm sorry." She muttered, feeling more then stupid for not remembering that fact.

"Ve! Don't cry!"

"I'm not crying," She said looking at Italy in surprise. In truth, she wasn't. She just felt foolish, and frightened.

"I didn't mean to sound harsh." Francis amended, and he gave a faint smile. "You worried me is all. No man likes to see a woman in danger."

"Sorry."

There was a bout of silence and as Arthur made a sling for his arm, Francis tilted his head slightly. "Just what were you planning on doing, other then coming unarmed against a shooter."

"Oh. I was going to grab the ax in the fire box."

"What." Arthur turned around at that, looking at her with such incredulity that her face heated up more. "You thought to grab an ax when someone was wielding a gun."

"Yes."

He just turned back to France. "Americans."

"Hey!"

* * *

_**Present Day**_

In all of Rose's years of working for Alfred, there was one place she plainly refused to go and would avoid with great diligence. The broom closet held a ghastly reminder of events she really didn't care for, mostly because it had been deemed the un-official 'hook up' room and she had walked in on more then one couple before. The other reason was because she had been locked in there, believing that the dark small space was the last thing she would ever see. And so she took great pleasure in her seniority and would order the new secretaries or interns to fetch what she needed.

"Thomas!" She called, spotting the young aide with his nose in a book as he walked past America's office. He stopped, looking up with wide eyes like a rabbit who had been caught by a wolf and knew it was about to be eaten.

"Ms. Williams…"

"Can you come here for a moment, please?"

He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, and stalked a little closer. She gave an amused smile at the gangly young boy, he was always so nervous around anyone but his nation. Thomas scratched at the bright red hair on top of his head and waited.

"I need you to get me some more of these labels. They should be in the broom closet."

He visibly paled, bringing out the freckles on his face. "Aw, come on."

"Seniority, dear." She hummed and logged off the computer. "Come along Thomas, its not that bad."

"But I always go there. Oksana always makes me, and so does Mutti and Gabriel."

Rose sighed, feeling like the grandmother trying to stop her children from squabbling. "Well, Oksana can do that since she's an old fart." She smiled at the strangled laugh Thomas gave, then muttered, "But Mutti and Gabriel shouldn't– they're young still."

Thomas thought about that for a minute, chewing on the end of his pen, which Rose knew drove England crazy. "How long have they all been here?"

"Oh, they all came around the same time. Oksana came in '72 though, the brat." Rose frowned as she thought about the Russian secretary. Now, she may like Ivan-maybe even as a friend, but she really truly hated that pompous witch. "Mutti's been here since '99, working for France, and Gabriel has been here since '01, under employment of Spain."

Thomas thought about that for another second and the elder woman, fiddled with one of the rings on her knobby wrinkled hand. She stretched a little, trying to keep away the pangs of arthritis. She thought briefly of all the aids now working here .

Oksana, the Russian secretary had once had the longest and most beautiful black hair. Now though it was starting to grey and wane, sadly not along with her cold and demanding personality. Mutti was a lighthearted girl with short curly bronze ringlets and bright piercing blue eyes. It always seemed like she could have read your soul in a simple glance with those eyes. Of course, it was her favorite pastime to find ways to make Germany blush, both with her flirty nature and a bosom that rivaled Katyusha's. Gabriel, now the second youngest with Thomas having just been employed, had been described once by Mutti once as 'sex on legs with glasses'. Dark golden skin, curly black hair always pulled back with a tie, a body that rivaled any underwear model's, and a smile that could make any girl swoon. Of course, that was what Mutti said. Rose really saw them all as grandchildren and cared for them all in her own way…even Oksana.

Thomas started to mutter to himself as he began to turn away, most likely set on going to the broom closet and stopping to get eye bleach on the way incase the closet was occupied.

"Oh, and Thomas?"

"Yes, Ms. Williams?"

"Tell Mutti, Oksana, and Gabriel to see me if they try and make you go there again."

He brightened up and his body straightened out of the hunch he had been walking about in before. "Okay."

"Thomas?"

"Yes?"

"Your _Harry Potter_ briefs are showing. Best to pull those pants of yours up before your boss sees them."

He blushed scarlet and marched away.

* * *

_**November 1959**_

With great reason to have an aversion to the broom closet, Rose had dubbed it the corner of doom in her head and avoided it as much as possible. One day while working late, she stopped to rub her wrists and fingers from typing for so long. The report had to be sent to DC by tomorrow, so there was really no choice, and she set back to work with a grumble. The work wasn't so bad and it wasn't really what bothered her. What did bother her though was that her boss was nowhere to be seen. She glared at the keys on her typewriter for a smooth minute and hit the 'K' a little harder then necessary.

Granted, it might have been due to her monthly mood, and sitting with cramps all day long had not done anything but grate on her nerves and make her irritable. Today it was particularly bad – enough that it had sent her normally peppy mood to the moon and was replaced by scathing scowls and no patience.

Alfred, unused to her being in such a poor mood had asked her what was wrong. When she had muttered that her uterus was falling out he turned a bright red and left her alone for the rest of the day. The only consolation she had received that day in fact was when she had been lying on small couch in the kitchen area, a cup of hot tea seated on her abdomen as she talked quietly with Elizabeta who, sympathizing, had decided to tell of her adventures involving Gilbert and her frying pan.

Taking a sip of water from the glass on her desk, she frowned at seeing that she had run out of paper. Getting up, she shuffled over to the cabinet to see that she had run out of paper there too. Rose sighed, pocketing the air and puffing her cheeks as she let out a controlled hiss. Turning to the closet in their office, she opened the door while kicking aside one of the many accumulated McDonalds wrappers on the floor.

Pulling the door open she peered inside at the wall that should have been filled with a ream of paper. Nothing was there however and she sighed. Then she looked at the far corner. "Latvia, Lithuania, you both can't hide in here forever."

"But he found my hiding place under the sink!" The young quivering blond cried while Toris patted his shoulder.

"All right, all right. I wont say anything." She closed the door and began to fling open another cabinet, with no sign of the paper. She let a long groan fall out and looked to the door, knowing she would have to grab more paper from the supply closet or the broom closet. "Eh." She muttered and left the office unlocked, knowing she could just ask the nations camped in America's closet if someone had come in.

Dragging, she continued to walk down the hall towards the stairs, not even bothering to look slightly perky or happy. She felt sick, and so her lips meshed into a thin line and her eyes clenched slightly, her face turning into a scowl.

Slowly walking down the stairs, she rubbed at her abdomen with a faint wince and lifted her hand in a lazy 'hello' as she passed Matthew talking to a hair twirling Poland.

"Eh, Rose are you alright?" the Canadian asked, pushing his glasses up slightly.

"Yes. I'm fine." The reply came out as a grumble though and she held her stomach. "Do you know where Alfred is?"

"I, like, saw him on the first floor, like, an hour ago or something," Feliks replied giving her a sly look. "Looked like he was talkin' to Russia about something, like, totally important."

"Is that so." Rose began to walk forward, scowl more pronounced and only stopped when Matthew called out her name again. "What?" she whined.

"Rose, really. Are you alright? You look really sick."

"Lay off Mattie, like, can't you tell its woman problems?" At 'problems', Poland had taken his hands off his hips and made invisible air quotation marks.

"Thank you for that blunt answer." Rose muttered, smirking slightly at seeing Matthew employ the same blush as his brother. She gave another lazy wave and began to walk to the broom closet. The blonde began to wonder if she could just rip out everything that hurt, and upon reaching the closet, rubbed at her head with a sigh as her head began to ache.

Of course should Rose have been paying attention, she might have heard the quiet groan from inside.

So, opening the door with intention of grabbing the white paper, she was instead met with the sight of white skin, intimacy, the smell of sweat and sex, and she slammed the door close with a yelp.

Jumping away from the door as though huge snakes guarded it, she began rubbing her eyes furiously while muttering 'oh god' over and over again, trying to remove the image that seemed to have been burned into her retinas. Alfred. Ahhhhh. Back turned to the closet and shoulders hunched, she cried 'ewewew." As her new mantra and ran off, hands covering her face as she ran not to the office, but to the roof.

Up top, not caring in the least the fact that it was freezing up there, she began to pace with her face the color of a setting sun. She had just seen Alfred doing….that…with another guy and _ew ew ew_. Rubbing again at her eyes, trying to scrub the sight out from her mind. At least ten minutes had to have passed before she managed to calm her embarrassment down and sat down on the edge of the roof, back against the ledge. Tucking her head between her legs, the woman tried to clear her mind so she could maybe get back to work. Thinking of anything else, Rose focused on the November air, how the sun was starting to set, the beautiful clouds, the birds flying calmly above her…the implication of the fact that she had seen Alfred's face…

With a strangled scream into her palms, stamping her feet while rocking back Rose once again tried to remove the image that had stayed mockingly in her mind. Another span of minutes flew by and she stayed curled up in a little ball, not caring if she froze like that. It was with dread when the door to the roof opened slowly, the hinges creaking out a low groan.

Rose didn't move, instead muttering to herself and clutching at her stomach when a cramp passed. The sound of gravel being crunched echoed into her ears and she didn't look up as it got louder and finally stopped a few feet away from her body.

"Uh, Rose?"

She didn't answer and curled tighter.

The crunching of gravel sounded again and came closer. The sound of sliding against the wall met her ears the same time the scent of leather and hamburgers did.

"So, uh. That was awkward," Alfred finally muttered.

"You have no idea." Rose said into her arm, but even to her ears it sounded like: 'mumphf murph umph.'

"Yeah." There was a pause and he finally muttered, "You have to be freezing."

"No." She twisted her head that time, looking at him over the edge of her arm. He wasn't looking at her while he picked at the cloth of his shirt, face set in a low blush.

"Uh…so…about that."

"You don't need to explain."

"I do though, don't I?"

"Alfred," at that she went back into her little ball, "I don't want to know. It was like walking in on my brother or something."

"Oh. Uh, okay." He tilted his head back and Rose glanced at him, growling as her eyes caught sight of a mottled mark. "What, did you turn into a dog with all this growling today?" he asked with a nervous smile.

"What the heck!" She unfurled from her ball and grabbed his chin, looking at the visibly red, cut, and broken skin. "He _bit_ you?"

"Rose…" Al started warily, pulling away from her grasp.

She stared at him in fear. "He bit you?" she asked again, this time her voice enraged. "He didn't…did he…what else…are you hurt?" She paused choking on her words, "was this…was it… forced? Consensual? "

Alfred spluttered at that. "What? No!"

"No?" She cried.

"Wait– no, hold on. No…it wasn't. I mean yes. It was. I…uh, I initiated it…"

She looked at him warily. "That's not the same thing Alfred."

"Rose. It's cool. Relax. I wasn't forced." He looked at her red, and put his head into his hands. "Oh god this is awkward."

"Yep."

They both fell into a bout of silence and Rose finally started to shiver, more then half an hour on the roof without a jacket finally getting to her. "We should go inside," Alfred said, looking at her carefully.

"Okay."

"Take my jacket."

"Thanks." He shifted off the jacket and held it out to her. Rose pulled it on, making a face at how easily it swallowed her frame and draped off of her. It was warm though, and the scent was comforting. Neither made eye contact though and they stood there, stagnant from the weight of embarrassment.

"Um. Okay. I, uh. I don't mind that you like guys. It's weird– to me– but I can get over it. I just never never never never ever want to see that again." She glanced up at him and saw that he was looking at her carefully.

"Yeah. Uh, I didn't exactly want you walking in on that either."

"Alright then."

"Yeah…"

Rose paused, then linked her arm with Alfred who looked surprised. "You're getting me the paper though. I'm never going back there again."

"Oh come on," he said amused, "Was it really that bad? You can never go to the broom closet again?"

"Alfred, I already have Ivan's bottom burned into my eyes. I don't need anything else thank you."

"Well, " and here his voice took a teasing and light tone as he opened the roof door. "It could have been worse. At least it's a sexy one."

Rose smacked his arm hard enough that he was rubbing it for the rest of the night.

* * *

_**Febuary 1958**_

"I had a great night Frank," Rose said as she leaned over the railing of the small river bridge in the park, looking over and across at the water while the lights of the city rippled across it like dancing fairies.

"I'd hoped you would." He gave her an easy smile and she grinned back, curling into the palm of his hand as he rubbed the pad of his thumb across her jaw.

"Rosemary?"

She blinked at the full use of her name. "Yes Franklin?" Rose teased gently.

"Do you love me?" His face was shrouded in the shadows of the evening, making his face impossible to read.

"Of course I do, love. Why do you ask?" when he said nothing she gave him a slow kiss and pulled away to peck at his forehead. When he said nothing she poked his arm. "You never did tell me what you were talking to Alfred about last week. You know, after you pulled him away when I got out of work?"

"I asked him for his permission."

"…Permission for what?"

"This." At that he got onto one knee, looking up at Rose with feverish devotion and grasped her hand with his own gloved ones. "Rose. You know I love you from one end of the world to the stars and beyond. There is nothing more then to wake up every single day of forever and be with you." He paused, slipping one hand to his pocket and Rose's breath hitched. "You make me want to be more then me. To be something amazing just for you. You make me happier then anything else in this world Rose, and I want to know if you'll share your life with me and marry me?"

He flipped a small box open, revealing a ring and Rose covered her mouth.

She took a step back. "I…" she stopped and looked at Frank, tears streaming out from her soft brown eyes and sobbed. "I'm sorry."

She turned then and fled sobbing, leaving the devastated man behind in the cold bitter night.

* * *

OH MY. But at least France is in good health, right?

So let me explain why I added the gunman arc...I know someone out there is going 'rawr. too much drama and action. rawr.' To which I agree, but I'm an angst writer foremost so _its like an addiction._ The only way Rose would ever get past her anger towards Germany, and even Japan and Italy in a way, is if they helped saved her life. There will always be that bitter edge for her, but at least he can become friendly, if not friends. Rose is a character who doesn't forget, whether that is a vice or virtue for her you will have to decide. Also about Homosexuality for Rose... the gay community was actually very large and almost accepted between the years of 1920-30 in NYC, after that though, it became demonized once more. I feel since Rose has at this point lived a large portion of her life in the city, she would be open to ideas- ones that were probably echoing through the area once more despite the Red Scare. So Rose isn't a hater, but she isn't used to it and she finds it strange. That doesn't mean she wont love her friends and co-workers any less, but she doesn't want to be involved with it either.

Okay. PR hour over.

OKAY. NOW IT IS TIME TO THANK THE FREAKING AWESOME SUPER WICKED COOL TIME ALTERING DIMENSION RIPPING _BACK TO THE FUTURE_ LEVEL AWESOME EXTRAORDINARY PATIENT SAINTS WHO ARE KNOWN AS SUCH:

**Hikari Kame, Tea-PartyCrasher, natcat5, chrono-contract, ficfan3484, cross-over-lover232, alabaster-demon, PrussianAwesomness, Lumoa, LuckyNumbers, just another fma fan, lomki22, candy4yourEYEZ **and **ThreeBlackRose**s :D

PS. To those who asked about other humans/ secretaries...I am reluctant to place them in, but as you see they will come in the future. I actually wrote Nana Rose originally as a present day story with her interactions with the other secretaries more prevalent. So I have many many many stories about the other characters in my journals and such. :)

Oh history...so much fun can be done with you.


	13. Chapter 11

Whoah. Hey there everyone! So I'm running late to class, so this will be really short. I hope you are all well and thanks for putting up with my late posts. Sorry!

* * *

_**May 1960**_

Rose was staring at the two sticks in front of her, eyes twitching down in both agitation and distrust. The tapering wood gleamed under the lights, both highlighting the gold designs on the wooden ends and the dark eyes of the nation across from her.

"What exactly is this?" It looked caustic, a set of noodles in bright blood red liquid.

"Mmn, I guess you'd call it Dandan noodles, Aru." China looked across from Rose, sitting in the chair on his knees and his hands folded together gracefully. The fabric from his sleeves draped together and hid everything but the tips of his fingers.

"I see…" Rose looked at the broth and then at the sticks once more. "Exactly what are these?" she asked, pointing at the object.

"Chopsticks." Upon the clueless look on the American's face, he smiled and held up a pair mirroring her, "You use them to eat, Aru."

Rose glanced down at them and picked them up, trying to hold them in a similar fashion to Yao. One was dangling dangerously on the edge of her thumb and the dark haired nation sighed, pushing his hair over his shoulder and reached forward to correct her form.

"No, you use them like this, Aru." Lithe fingers swept over hers and Rose watched at as the thin sticks were firmly placed between her finger's grasp. He went back to his seat, smiling at her and finally untied the cobalt apron that had been tied around him. "Now we can eat!"

Rose's smile began to crack lightly as she glanced back down at the fire red liquid, the steam and scent already making her eyes water. "Eeehhhh…" It wouldn't be the first time she'd be eating something China had made (he seemed to cook when overly agitated or when the other nations prodded him to do so), but only once before had he made a spicy dish.

A loud 'ding' filled the room and Rose jumped up, looking to the oven in both relief and slight trepidation. "My bread must be done." She dashed over in two steps, opening the oven swiftly with a towel and pulling out a pan with a golden knotted oval resting in the middle. A hissing noise fell from her lips as the heat began to go through the fabric and she nearly dropped the pan and loaf, luckily placing it on the counter just before it began to burn her skin.

China had swiveled in his seat, still resting on folded legs. "It looks like it came out well. What is it, Aru?"

"Oh, Challah bread. My mama taught it to me when I was little when she learned it from our neighbor." Her eyes brightened in the memory and she turned around to look at Yao, a warm smile on her pale lips. "Though the first time I made it it was as hard as a rock and as black as coal."

"Sounds like Arthur's cooking, Aru." He turned back to his dish as Rose checked the brad one last time and then shut the oven off, allowing it to cool. She returned to the dish and put the chopsticks back into her fingers, looking at them in disdain for one second before trying to eat the food.

Apperantly Yao was waiting for some kind of reply other then her face becoming scarlet at the heat of the dish's broth, and she choked out after a gulp of ice water and a sip of green tea, "It's delicious, but very spicy."

"Yes, it's one of my favorites." He dug into the dish eagerly and Rose followed his lead, alternating from sipping from the bowl and eating the noodles – which was always followed by a gulp of water. After a few minutes when Rose had either gotten used to the spice of the chilies or her taste buds had died, China looked up and tilted his head. "You looked very mad when you came in here, Aru."

"Oh." Rose glanced at the noodles and then idly twisted the hair of her ponytail. "Yeah." Her eyes lit up in mischief and she leaned forward slightly. "Don't tell anyone, but I make bread when I'm mad because I can punch it over and over again. That and I get a delicious treat after my anger is gone." She leaned back into her seat, dabbing at a few flecks of broth that had fallen on the table.

"What were you mad over?"" Yao paused in eating, the noodles dangling from his chopsticks.

Rose waved it away. "Oh, nothing."

"Internalizing anger is unhealthy, Aru." His brown eyes held a note of wisdom, but is vaporized as he returned to eating.

"Hm." The American secretary pushed away a stray lock of honey hair. She frowned wondering if she should rant or not, and then placed both hands of the table, pushing herself out of the seat and going to the drawers where the knives were.

Picking out a long seated knife, the edges glinting in the light, she turned to where the bread lay. "Well it's been a horrible day." She firmly grasped the loaf, positioning the blade atop the golden dome. "First, I realized that I shipped the wrong binders off last night, so I have to call the Whitehouse and explain why they wont be getting the paperwork this week." Rose began to saw into the bread, feeling the steam rise from the soft white insides. "Then, I tripped on one of those burger wrappers and nearly broke my ankle." She turned to China thoughtfully, pointing the blade at him as she noted: "One day I'll do so, mark my words."

She turned back to the bread, sawing another slice. "Then, of course, I find out that not only has my boss not been doing his paperwork, but he has been reading Superman comics." The sawing became slightly more aggressive. "Then I had to got to the damn broom closet and– of course – it was occupied with Antonio and Romano. Then I nearly tripped Matthew down the stairs because I didn't see him."

"Who, Aru?"

"Canada…never mind." She began to fly through cutting the bread, focusing on sawing and tearing apart the loaf. "Then, I run smack into Arthur and Francis fighting, to which I got a nice bruise on my side –which is already a nice shade of blue, mind you –and then Prussia asked me out for a date…and…and…" She cut the last slice of the loaf, placing the knife down harshly. Yao flinched, though she didn't see it. "I just…have you ever had a day where you just want to curl up into a ball and cry?"

"Everyone does. Thank you, Aru." He took the proffered slice of bread and Rose sank back into her seat, nibbling on the warm spongy bread. "But making bread makes it better."

"Well when you can't hit your nation, it helps."

He simply gave her a smile, munching on the bread since he had finished his dish. "This came out good."

"I'm glad. I wasn't really paying attention to the ingredients." Her mind had been thinking more along the lines of locking Alfred into a closet after giving him a good crack of the broom after finding the set of grease marks on all the documents that had to be shipped out by tonight. She wondered what Alfred had done after she had let out a strangled gasp and then murderously stalked away to the kitchen.

"Woah. Hey, bread!"

Speak of the devil…. Rose turned around in her seat, face automatically becoming agitated. Alfred glanced at her, like a teenager wondering if their mom was still mad. She got up and went to clean up the cutting board and knife.

"Hey Yao. What's up?" Alfred sauntered in, slipping into the chair next to China while Rose pointedly glowered at the knife instead of her nation because it wasn't nice to look at one's boss with a murderous air.

"Nice to see you too, Alfred," Yao said, looking amused at the interaction between the two. "I heard that Arthur was looking for you earlier."

"Oh yeah? I wonder what he wants." Alfred took a slice of bread after glancing at his secretary. "So, Rose?"

"Yes, Mr. Jones?" She glanced down at him from her peripherals and Alfred hesitated in taking a bite.

"Have you, uh…been hanging out with Ivan?"

"No more then usual. Why?"

"Oh, you just seem to be doing that 'kol'…wait, what do you mean no more then usual?"

She was wiping the water off the blade of the serrated knife and looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Well he ends up at the bar I go drinking at."

He stared at her in disbelief. "You go drinking. With Russia."

"I wouldn't go that far, would you Yao?"

China smiled behind the curtain of his sleeves, eyes crinkling in the movement. "Oh no. More like you end up drinking with us."

"Us." Alfred muttered, tearing off the white flesh of the slice of bread and chewing it.

"Mmm. Arthur, Yao, Ivan, Gilbert, Antonio and sometimes Francis end up at Ricks. Usually on Saturday night when I go."

"You go drinking."

"Well, yes. I know it's not lady like…but Frank doesn't drink really, so Lucy and I go…though lately Lucy has been bailing on me." She turned back to putting the knife away, wondering about the dark haired woman who lived two floors below her. She probably was too freaked out from the time Arthur had begun crying about the revolution. She turned to Alfred with a quizzical glance. "You didn't know?"

"No. The only time I saw you drink, really, was when you tried to out drink Ivan."

Her cheeks turned pink and Rose turned to bend down and tuck the board under the oven.

"What this? What happened, Aru? China glanced at the young North American nation.

"Nothing." Rose sang in warning and began to fuss with the cutting board since it wouldn't go into the slot. She heard a snort of laughter and she turned to glance at Alfred who began to immediately chew on the bread.

"Smells delightful in here." Rose tried wiggling the board in when she heard the British accent.

"Delightful? Who says delightful?"

"Those who don't mangle my language into that pathetic excuse you call English."

Rose smiled at Arthur's muttering. "Take some bread, Arthur. I just baked it."

"Ah, thank you Rose." She straightened up, kicking the drawer harshly. Frowning and hands cocked on her hips in agitation, she bent down again to pull out the rest of the sheets and try to organize them so she could get the cutting board back in. "You're welcome Francis."

"What's going on! A party? Like, totally cool."

"Uhh."

"Mm. Smells like fresh baked bread. And damn, a view to go with it."

Rose stood up with a dark blush hearing Alfred mutter a warning to Prussia. When she turned around, Rose was suddenly glad she had made a large loaf of bread. It seemed like half the world was here. She sighed, turning the oven back on for a second batch of bread that was rising in the corner. Turning back, she rested against the counter's edge while she smiled.

Gilbert was dangling over Francis' shoulder, snickering while Francis waved his hands in denial of something as Arthur turned a dark shade of red. Feliks was holding a slice of bread out to Toris who took it with a smile. Yao was looking up at Ivan who seemed to have popped out of the shadows, both talking in hushed tones. Elizaveta was poking her head in, dragging Roderich and little Lichtenstein by their arms while a fuming Vash followed in from behind. Some how, Tino and Berwald had snuck in when Rose turned back to the oven and she gave a smile as Tino waved to her.

"This came out really good. Are you making more?" he asked, splitting the bread in half and handing it to the taller Scandinavian nation.

"Uh, yeah." She turned when she heard Arthur starting to mutter about "American English" and then back to the ball of dough in front of her. "Well, bread yes. This is a different type though." She sprinkled flour over and around it and then punched it hard. Alfred was still sitting at the table, arguing up at Arthur when he had moved away from Prussia and France. She met his summer blue eyes and he came over to watch her.

"Hey, can I try?"

"Wash your hands, and yes." She gave a small grunt while laying into the dough, rolling and kneading it. She moved out of the way when he came back, rolled up his sleeves and then sprinkled his hands with flour. She watched him labor over the dough, kneading and folding it, giving it a good punch once. She looked to the oven though when she realized with a light blush that she had been watching him arm muscles ripple with movement.

"Don't over knead it"

"I wont" he said with a smile and gave a last good knead. Rose winced when she heard the counter groan from the strength of her nation.

"Don't destroy the counters either, " She laughed, taking back the ball of dough and dividing it in smaller portions, then rolling them out.

"Kay." He huffed, watching her work at braiding the dough. "Sorry about earlier."

"What?" She glanced at him and then back at the bread dough, wiping at her brow and then went to the refrigerator to grab and egg to separate.

"You know, for screwing with you and stuff."

"Screwing with me, huh?" She cracked the egg, letting the clear and stringy fluid drain away as Rose passed the yolk from shell to shell. She poured the yellow blob into a bowl and quickly rinsed her hands. Taking a small brush, she began to paint the bread. "Hm." She glanced up at America, tilting her head. It was her job to take care of this man in the office, but that didn't mean she didn't get agitated once in awhile. She wouldn't be human otherwise. "Wash the dishes and I'll call it even."

"Okay!" With that he went to the sink, turning the tap on and gleefully pouring the soap over the measuring cups and pans.

"You're eager." Rose hummed, smiling at him (something she felt she hadn't done in a while.)

"I love washing dishes." He leaned over, winking at her. "It was the only thing Arthur used to trust me with when I was little." Alfred pulled away and her own grin grew warmer as she studied the coiled mass of dough in front of her. "It used to make me feel really useful." There was a nostalgic tone that made Rose glance back at him, watching his hands dip into the water to scrub away at the grime.

Placing the bread into the oven, she shut it and turned the dial to an hour. Rubbing at her lower back, Rose walked over to him and took a towel, starting to dry. "My mama made me dry. She cut a lot of things and was too afraid I would slice my hand open."

"You seemed pretty decent with the knife earlier." Alfred joked, but the look on his face was tight and it made laughter bubble from her lips.

"Oh, I'm talking about when was young, like eight. Grandfather was a butcher ad he taught me how to sharpen and handle all sorts of knives." At the strangled laugh Alfred gave, she added; "But I only use them for cooking. I started around eleven."

"You're pretty good at it. Arthur's been doing it since forever and he still sucks."

"I heard that!"

Rose glanced back at Arthur who was glowering at his former charge, sitting next to Francis while they played what looked like poker with Gilbert, Berwald and Antonio.

A second look at the room made her stiff as she noticed just how many nations were suddenly there. Young Soo seemed to have wormed his hands under Japan's shirt while Yao held his head in his hand. Natalia was nuzzling a terrified Ivan in the corner, muttering something that Rose couldn't hear. Feliciano suddenly streamed into the room, careening into his puffed up brother sitting beside Antonio.

Rose chuckled and turned back to drying the dishes. "Seems as if we started a party."

"That's cool. Food brings everyone together. It's nice once in a while to just chill."

Rose tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling up at him. "It is. Though if this were a real party, we'd have music."

"Meh. You can sing. I know you still sing the French nation anthem when you clean by the way."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right. Hey Mattie! Want to help me put the dishes away?"

"No thanks." Canada looked up from the Poker game he had joined.

"Aw come on…." Alfred flicked the excess water at his northern brother and then returned to washing a cup.

"What kind of bread are you making?" Rose looked to her left, seeing Francis.

"Oh. Sunflower seed bread. It's my favorite."

"Is that so?" The Frenchman looked like he was holding back a smirk. "What was this I heard about my anthem?"

"_Nothing. Nothing_. _You heard wrong_," she muttered in French, looking away to Alfred.

"_Non_. I heard right." He looked happy as he pestered her further, poking her cheek when she puffed them up in agitation.

"Did you say sunflower seed bread?" Russia asked, trapping her between both nations and the counter.

"Um. Yes?"

He paused then looked away. "Interesting."

"Quite." Her fingers gripped the edge of the counter in nervousness, her smile tight. He walked away, and after a moment, so did Francis. She turned back to Alfred watching them both go and then blinked, catching her gaze, and shrugged.

"Did you just stare them down?"

"You get claustrophobic easily, right? Can't have you passing out. You need to make more bread."

"I'm so glad to hear your concern was focused on me."

"Yep."

She stood up on her tippy toes, brushing the flour off his nose easily. "Thanks."

"No prob. It's what heroes do."

* * *

_**Present Day**_

Rose sighed, shrugging her shoulders slowly to ebb the pain. She glanced down at the website on the monitor and clicked it, seeing all too familiar faces pop up. Ever since Kiku's web-manga had sprouted up, it was dangerous ground on the internet. Especially when she was checking the news for US and UK relations.

She scrolled down, ignoring the pieces of art that pooped up on the screen and went to CNN, looking briefly to see if there wasn't anything she hadn't heard yet. There wasn't. Again, one of the perks for working for nations was that she learned of the news faster then everyone else. She backed out and went back to the search engine page seeing a video clip. Glancing around the room, she clicked on it wondering how the anime had turned out. What she hadn't realized was that it was a fan video and after a few seconds her face turned a bright scarlet. However, the tune was oddly catchy and she cover her mouth, staring at the screen in both horror and fascination. When it was over she blinked and then hit the play button again, instantly minimizing the video so she could simply listen to the music.

She did this over and over again, only to listen to the oddly memorizing music while she typed furiously, until she heard the door open and saw her boss come in from the corner of her eye.

"What'cha doin' ?" he asked, eying the earbuds.

"Listening to a song." Rose typed faster, hoping to be able to simply log out before he came and investigated like she knew he would

"What song?"

"Nothing you want to hear."

"Aw come on…"

She turned to him, face as stern as usual. "It's a Hetalia video."

"Ah…" He looked at her while scratching his nose. "Who am I sexing up this time?"

"No one…just dancing strangely. Could be worse, Jones."

"Oh that's good. I actually heard two girls talking about Hetalia in the subway today. Apparently I'm an 'uke'…what ever the hell that means."

Rose's face turned from red to white and then blue as she turned back to the screen. "…I'm not even telling you."

"Aw come on! Is it good?"

She made a strangled yelp and typed harder on the computer, wishing for the old clacks of her typewriter. "Ask someone else, Alfred. It's like the birds and the bees."

"What birds?"

She just rubbed at her head and waved him away with her wrinkled hand. Three fingers skimmed through thin white hair. "Away. I'm not talking right now." When he frowned, deciding triumphantly to ask Arthur and running away to do so, she rested her head in her palms.

"Now I understand history."

* * *

_**February 1958**_

Rose stared at the paperwork in front of her, not truly focusing on what she was supposed to do that day. Alfred had, upon seeing her out of it, had thought that the proposal had gone well and she was dazed with excitement. When she had broke down in front of him and China, he had ushered her to the office and gave her some inane task to do. Every so often, when she looked up, Rose caught him gazing at her in worry.

She simply began to type slowly, and didn't look up until Alfred grasped her shoulder and she looked up in confusion.

"Come on. You need to eat something. I'm going to sick China on you otherwise." When he got no answer, only the clacks of the keyboard being stuck he shook her hard enough to make her head loll. "Rose. You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"I know you're not. You're Rose."

"That was a horrible joke." She looked up with glossy eyes and quickly returned back to her typewriter.

Alfred sighed, reached over her and picked up her machine as she protested, taking it back to his desk. Rose frowned and simply gazed at the patch of dust that had accumulated on the desk. He began to poke her in the back of the neck when she still didn't move.

"Rose…"

"I'm not going. I'm not hungry. Just let me work."

There was silence from behind her and suddenly two arms wrapped around her waist, and hoisted her up out of the chair. She gave a feeble protest as he slung her over his back and she fell silent.

"Dear god Rosy, not even a peep of anger? " He stopped on his track towards the door and instead hefted her down onto the edge of his desk. Folding his arms, the normally boyish face of her boss was set in wary confusion and the beginning of anger. "Rosemary Williams. It's time to talk. What happened?"

"I don't want to talk." Rose picked at the hem of her sleeve, looking down at the ground as Alfred waited in silence. Lips quirking slightly, Rose simply focused on the pattern of her dress. When it came to a game of patience, America had no hope against her.

He watched her, but his face slowly turned into a pout as the minutes ticked by. "You can't keep acting like this. You're acting like someone died."

She began to count backwards from one thousand.

"Roooooosssee." He began to poke her cheek and she frowned. A few more minutes passed and she crossed her legs, looking up.

"There is nothing to discuss Alfred. I am not hungry either. Now please please please please please please please stop asking."

"No. There's something wrong with you and I'm going to find out."

They met each other's eyes and Rose's lips fell into a deep frown. A knock came from the door and without looking, Rose called, "Come in!"

Arthur opened the door, one brow raised. "Someone was looking for you."

"Huh?" Alfred said, turning to the door. Rose glanced at him and went to the bookcase, pulling out a book with the intention of ignoring her boss further.

It wasn't until she realized that silence fell over the room for quite awhile that she looked up.

Straight into hurt green eyes.

"Frank," she breathed, closing the book. Alfred and Arthur were standing by the door, watching them warily.

"Rose. I– I need to talk to you. Please."

"Oh." She tucked a strand of hair back, looking to the floor– unable to handle the gaze. "Do you want to go somewhere private?"

"No. Here is fine." He shut his vivid green eyes brightly, furrowing a hand through frazzled brown hair, unlike his usual combed look. When both simply adverted their eyes, like children trying to speak their hearts, Frank curled his hand into a fist and took a deep shuddering breath.

"Rose. Why did you run away?" He sounded so hurt.

"I can't marry you Frank. Please understand."

"Why?" He cried, "Don't you love me?"

"Of course I do! That's–" She stopped and turned slightly, looking to the wall. "That's not the issue."

"Then what is it? Rose, please. I need something!" She bit her tongue, her eyes half closed as thoughts swirled through her mind. It was abruptly interrupted though as he grabbed her wrist. "Rosemary!"

"I'll never be enough for you!" She yelled at him, balking at the heavy silence that blanket the room as her words echoed harshly.

"What do you mean…what –"

"Nothing. I only–"

Frank grabbed her arms, turning her to him fully so she couldn't turn away. "Rose, please! What does that mean?"

"I can never stop loving him, Frank." She began to tear up and it clogged her throat tightly. His eyes dulled as he realized what she meant. "How can I marry you when I still think about him? How can I devote my self, my soul to you when I still cry what if in the night! What wife would I be?"

"You think I don't know that?" He gave her a gentle shake. "God damn, Rose. What do you think love is? I just want the chance to be with you every morning when you wake up. To be there to support you through all your nightmares and dreams. To travel the rest of life with you by my side. Isn't that what love is? I just want the chance to make you smile every day for the rest of our lives, until we both stop breathing."

She was crying, but couldn't wipe away the tears since he was still holding her tightly. He was gazing down at her, still hurt, but his eyes glowed with ardent passion. "Do you still love me, Rose?"  
"Of course. O-of course I do Frank." She shook her head, hair batting at her face.

He was silent for a moment, head tilted to the side. "But that's not all…is it?" He waited another moment and his eyes widened slightly. "Is this over what you told me?" Rose made a chocked noise and she shut his eyes. "You know that doesn't matter."

"I can't have children. I can't provide you a family."

He paused, hand in midair. "It doesn't matter to me. We've talked about his."

"It might! It might! One day, when everyone else you've ever known has children you will. One day you'll wish everything was better and it never will be."

"Marry me, Rosemary Hope Williams. Marry me and stay with me. I'll make it better. I swear I will." He swept the pad of his thumb over her jaw, bringing his head down to dominate her gaze, she knew somewhere deep inside that it could work out. It could.

"I'll never be able…." She admitted sadly and he touched their foreheads together.

Frank gave a sad smile. "Please, Rose. I love you. The rest is just footsteps taken hand in hand."

She swallowed, staring at him and unable to say a word. Every second that passed, the light began to die in his eyes and weakly his fingers slipped from her arms. He took a step back and gazed at her, then took a quick step to the side and began to walk away.

He left her peripheral and it was when she heard the door shut that her thoughts stopped screaming and the spell was shattered. Whipping her head to the door, she saw Arthur and Alfred still gazing at her, her boss looking as every bit crushed as she felt.

"Wait-" Her voice was feeble and she took a step forward, blinking and then found herself running to the door. She ripped it open, missing how it nearly slammed into Arthur's face as she sprinted towards the slumped and dejected looking figure walking away. "Frank!"

He stopped, shoulder's rising in a fraction as he started to turn. She crashed into at full speed, watching the world turn to a blur as they both plunged to the ground – Rose's arms wrapped around his waist and his arms over her shoulder and back.

With a heavy thump she looked down at him, hair draping like a curtain around her head and shutting the world off from her mind. "Don't–" She stopped and dipped down, meeting his lips with a sorrowful and fearful kiss. How did the world tilt from so wondrous to so unsure in the blink of an eye?

He pulled away, looking up at her in amazement.

"Don't go. Please! I– I don't want you to leave. I love you. I love you. love love love." Every 'love' was a peppered kiss to his face, sniffling as a tear fell onto his cheek from her eyes. She kissed him again. "Yes. God, yes."

"Yes?" Green eyes lit up and his fingers curled strong around her waist.

"Yes. I can't loose you. Not you." She breathed and pulled away from his face, still straddled on top of him. "I'll make it work. We'll make it work."

"Footsteps, love. Footsteps." Frank grinned then and she gave a choked out bark of laughter. They gave a soft peck, cracked lips melding with soft petal like ones and she gazed at him when he began to laugh.

"What?"

"If this is what it takes to get you to jump me, I'm wondering if it's worth it. Sans tears of course, darling." He frowned, though it was a bit playful. "And the 'no'. I'm not sure my pride can take that again."

Brown eyes gazed at him blankly and then she burst into a dark shade of red, feeling the burn creep along and down her body. "H-hey." She began to pull away from the indecent position when he pulled her back down, face alit in joy. "I'll make you happy Rose."

"You already do." She gave one last peck and truly began to try and arise.

"Can't we stay like this?" he asked softly, growling at her body leaving his.

"Well yes, just not here."

Both looked to each other with wide eyes and then up to where the speaker was, looking at both of them with happy green eyes. In fact, there were many eyes on her now as Rose noticed half the world was watching her and Frank. Literally.

"Nice job Angleterre. You have managed to ruin _l'amour_ once again." Francis folded his arms, looking away from the couple on the floor to England standing beside him.

Arthur glared at him, swatting his arm with narrowed eyes and a suspicious blush on his face. "Belt up, bloody frog."

"Aw! You two are getting married!" Elizaveta had her hands clasped and Rose thought she had seen the black bulk of a camera behind her back.

The blush intensified on her cheeks as she looked at Canada, Ukraine, Hungary, England, France, Lithuania, Russia, Spain, Prussia, and of course, her boss who looked a shade between a shade of mortification and joy. Rose jumped up finally, dusting off her dress and helping her new fiancé with a mixture of nervousness and glowing happiness.

"Oi. Seems you two need to get a room." Prussia said with a smile, which turned to a frown quickly as Antonio began to prod his side about a bet.

Rose looked to Frank, who met her with a smile and a knowing wink. "One last thing, darling." He went to one knee and she wondered if she would faint with all the blood rushing to her face instead of her heart. Fishing out a small black box from his coat, he opened it to pull out a small ring, a simple and small, but beautiful diamond in the center. He slipped it onto her hand, kissing it as soon as it glided on.

She smiled at him as he stood back up and wrapped her arms around him, giving a kiss to his cheek. "I'll see you tonight," she whispered into his ears.

"I'll be waiting." He looked to her and gave a wave to Alfred, then turned around to go.

"Hey! I'll lead you out!" Elizaveta said, skipping over to him. Frank turned a shade paler and nodded reluctantly. Rose simply chuckled to herself and turned to see Alfred still smiling at her.

"What. Come on! Back to work! Can't be delayed, now can we? That goes for all of you too! Come along then." She began to push Alfred back to his office as he began to groan. "Work!"

"Really? You can't take the day off and enjoy being engaged?"  
"If I leave, I'll come back to find you in a closet with someone, probably England at this point, or with a stack of Superman comics rather then paperwork.

His groan could be heard though the whole building.

* * *

THIS CHAPTER. So. How about that? THey're engaged...but will it stay that way? Or will wedding bells chime? HMmmmmmm.

Question: Many expressed distaste for Russia and America. Poll will be going up since there is no 'one' paring really (other then FrUk. I shall not budge) so who else wouldn't you mind seeing America with?

Question 2: More drama or more comedy?

OKAY. NOW IT'S TIME TO THANK THE SUPER WICKED AWSOME NOT FULL OF MUFFISHNESS COOL TIME AND SPACE BENDING FUN SAINT LIKE WITH PATIENCE AND EPICLY WICKEDLY TOTALLY FANTASTIC PEOPLE WHO ARE KNOWN AS SUCH:

**LuckyNumbers, natcat5,Lumoa, alabaster-demon, ficfan4384, cross-over-lover232, chrono-contract, ThreeBlackRoses, Hikari Kame, Sweetest Possible Revenge, rultas (x2), Tea0PartyCrasher, , just another fma fan, Axxi **and** Candy4yourEYEZ** :D

THANK YOU ALL FOR SO MUCH SUPPORT


	14. Chapter 12

Hello everyone! I hope you are all doing well. I apologize for sounding like a whiny teenager last chapter, as I have noticed by re-reading the chapter. How embarrassing. Luckily my professor taught something very important for writing so I am trying to take that to heart. So! I hope you are all well, college is insane right now with all the papers I have to write and present (similarities between pro-slavery and pro-child labour writers in the victorian age/ homoeroticism in American literature between 1910-1960 anyone? No?) Anyway, I hope this came out well because I am very tired. And yes, Beatles. I KNOW. I KNOW. THEY ARE COMING. THE BRITISH ARE COMING, 'ight? just not yet. :)

_Chris

* * *

_**September 1960**_

Rose was clacking away at the typewriter, looking carefully at the report on foreign oil and frowning at some of the figures. She paused, feeling the cooler air from the hallway come into the room at the same time as Alfred strode in. Well, she assumed it was Alfred since she could already smell a burger. Damn that Californian burger chain.

She paused as he tossed a manila folder over her shoulder and she frowned as it scattered a stack of papers. "Hey!" Lunging forward, she barely managed to stop the stack from cascading to the ground. Brown eyes narrowing she turned around with a twitch of her lips, then paused with her eyebrows reaching her hairline. "What is that!"

"What is what?" Alfred adjusted his glasses, pushing his glasses up into the bridge of his nose.

Rose covered her mouth, lounging over the edge of her chair. A choking noise fell from between her fingers as she slowly turned a deep burgundy. Alfred began to turn a light pink as he recognized Rose trying to stifle her laughter. "Is-is that a…" she hiccupped back a snort of laughter and tried to stop herself from sobbing with laughter. "Is that a mustache?"

Alfred's face became even redder and Rose splayed her fingers over her lips to lock the laughter back. "What! I think it looks cool!"

It looked like a caterpillar had decided to crawl up onto his lips and nestle there. Rose stood and pushed the chair back, lips pressed tight together. "Alfred, Sweetie. No. Just…no." She chuckled and patted his arm as he frowned, trying to stem down the laughter for his sake. "A-Are you trying to out do France or Cuba?"

"Don't talk about that communist bastard." He growled, but he was looking embarrassed rather than angry.

"I thought Russia was the communist bastard." Rose leaned against her desk, sucking her lower lip while coughing to hide a bout of laughter.

America actually seemed to think about that for a moment. "Well, he's number one." He then nodded, folding his arms and tilting his head to the side. "Yeah. Definitively number one."

"Alfred, are you really serious about…that caterpillar on your face?

There was a low crinkle of leather from his jacket as he shifted his shoulders lightly. The light of the windows reflected off his glasses and Rose began to open the folder. "Well…yeah. I kind of do."

"Why?"

"Well, for one it makes you look like a creeper, and two it makes you look old." She paused and wrinkled her brown, pointing at him with the folder he had tossed to her desk. "And I don't need a creeper for a boss. So, you might want to change that unless–"

Well, she had tried to slip a warning in but the door opened and both Americans turned to look. Matthew looked back, lavender eyes bright as he was poised to say something, then paused and fell quiet. Blinking at his brother, he tilted his head to the side, a grin that Rose was used to seeing only on Alfred's face creep up. "So Al, you steal Arthur's eyebrows, eh?"

"Oh, shut up Mattie" Alfred was glaring at his northern brother.

Rose watched them bicker back and forth for a while before Rose tugged at Alfred's sleeve. "Should I go out and get a shaving kit?"

"…Yeah."

* * *

_**January 1960**_

Rose shivered as the cool air vented into her coat as she re-bundled herself, trying to gain more warmth against the Russian winter. Teeth chattering slightly, her numb fingers tugged harshly on the hat perched on her head, looking up to the right where her boss walked animatedly.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked, sticking her hands into her armpit to bring feeling back to her appendages.

"Yes. But it's not so bad. Not with Alaska now. Besides! Guess what I am!" He immediately brought his hands up like a raptor, letting out a long condensed stream of fog from his mouth. Glancing down from the corner of his glasses, Alfred gave a grin.

"I have no idea. What?"

"Guess!"

"A rabbit." She focused on the black and grey snow piled high on the edge of the street. She saw the confusion slip over his face and hid her mouth into the folds of her heavy scarf.

"What? No. I'm a dragon! Rawr." He swiped at the air with curled up hands.

"Hm." Her tone was curt and slightly annoyed.

He stopped, blinking at her and she simply looked at him over the edge of all the winter fabric. "Huh? Something wrong? You sound like Arthur."

Rose's eyes twitched slightly at the last remark. "Not only have you ignored all of your paperwork, sir." He winced at the formal tone but Rose continued, " But you have skipped out of four meetings, ignored all of the President's phone calls and it has fallen on me to take care of them all." She paused, glancing at him. "Now I am fine doing it, as long as there is a good reason. So please tell me."

"Sorry."

"Hmph."

"Sorry. Really. It's nothing to worry about, I've just been thinking about Russia."

She turned fully to him, stopping in the empty street. "Thinking about Russia? Are you two back together again? Is this a relationship thing?"

"No, it's different. Anyway, it didn't work out. Again."

Rose glanced away from his bright blue eyes, looking at the stone of the pavement. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." She rubbed her fingers together in a twirling motion, then pushed a lone lock of hair back into her hat. "But what is different?"

He didn't look at her, instead resuming his walk towards the office building Russia was hosting the meetings in. Rose's lips quirked into a frown thinking of the plain brown box of a building. A minute later she grabbed his hand, "What do you mean different?"

"It's a war."

"What does that mean?" He just griped her hand and squeezed tightly, warmly, and assuring.

"Don't worry about everything Rose. Just handle the stuff you see."

She felt oddly cold at his words, despite the warm smile he gave– like a parent comforting a child. The secretary pulled her hand away and tucked it into the deep folds of her jacket. From there on they talked about general things. Alfred got her to laugh once or twice as he talked about his time at the bar last night with the other nations. Rose smiled at the story, wondering how all this had happened while she had been asleep only one floor above them.

Finally they came to the large and plain brown building. It was fairly new, but it was so obvious that it was against everything the rest of the city was built for. There was no flair to it, simply dark and grey. She shuddered, turning towards the small adjacent building where she was stationed. It was actually the first time Rose had been separated from America as a secretary for work other then the meetings. She bade him farewell, watching him run up the steps to meet a waiting Ivan, and trudged on towards the office she was to do her work in.

* * *

Eyes half lidded as she focused on a paper simultaneously threading her arm back into her jacket, Rose listened to the soft murmurs of the male Russian office workers, and the chatter from a few of the female secretaries that were buzzing around the office. Glancing up as one such woman walked past, she gave a small smile and packed up all her papers. From what she could tell, no one spoke a word of English in here, so it was sort of lonely though it allowed her to be productive for once.

The chair scraped loudly as her stomach growled for food, and so she walked out of the building and out to the cold Moscow air. Why anyone had thought it was a good idea to have a conference in Russia during the winter was beyond her. She shivered again, glad that the years of living in Maine at least allowed her to be thick blooded for the cold. Some of the warmer countries were bundled to the point where they looked like snowmen. The vision of Spain bundled up in four coats, two gloves and three scarves with a knitted tomato hat made her laugh quietly, making one of the male Russian workers give her a fearful smile, as though he questioned the American's sanity.

Pulling the door open, Rose sniffled as her nose began to run from the change in temperature, keeping her coat on as she walked through the building silently. The only noise she could hear was the clack of her heels against the ground and she glanced at her watch, wondering if all the nations were in a meeting. Surely not, they had been scheduled for a morning meeting– they couldn't be running over by four hours, could they? Though, Rose thought to herself, rubbing her fingers together, there was the time they had played Risk for five hours.

Rose's nose wrinkled slightly at the thought about the possibility, but she had made sure her boss was there on time this morning so at least it wouldn't be his usual tardiness that made everything late. She walked up the stairs, still unused to the silence through the building and finally found the room numbered for America. She knocked, something important to do these days and receiving no reply, she pushed the door open.

The room looked empty at first glance, though when she opened the door wider she noticed that there was a second desk where Arthur sat, rubbing his head with eyes clenched shut.

"Arthur? I didn't realize you two were sharing an office."

England looked up, green eyes surprised. "Rose?"

The tone stopped the rest of the general conversation at the tip of her tongue and she paused in her unraveling of her scarf to glance to the nation. "Is there something wrong?"

"Alfred missed the meeting. Was he by chance with you?" Arthur folded his fingers together, a look of annoyance in his bright green eyes.

Rose shook her head, alarm showing on her older looking face. "I don't see how he could not make it in. I left him at the doors. " She paused, tilting her head to look at the room. "Didn't he come in at all?" Her answer was the lack of clutter in the room: the lack of any wrappers, clothing, and strewn documents.

"No." Arthur was watching her as she began to pull on her hair, looking a bit frantic.

She walked to the desk, sitting on the edge of it and pulling the black rotary phone into her lap as she began to dial the hotel's number. There was an awkward minute as she had to wait for an English speaker to come, and she calmly asked if Alfred Jones had returned to his rooms.

He had not.

"Arthur," she said, hanging up the phone after thanking the manager and began to chew at her lips. "Where is he? I don't like this. Not at all."

"I'm sure he's fine. " Arthur stood up but there was stiffness to his words that told Rose not even he really believed it. America and Russia were at war. Wasn't it simply a little more then convenient that her nation was suddenly missing? Arthur was saying something, slipping on a heavy winter trench coat and a black fedora, a hard look on his face only amplified by his vivid green eyes and the dark shadows of the room. "Stay here Rose. I'm going to check something first." He left the room at that, leaving the door gently ajar.

Rose waited in the oppressing silence, fidgeting and glancing back at the clock ticking sinisterly on the wall. She felt dizzy and ground the palm of her hand into her eyes. There was a noise from outside the door and she looked up, seeing the edge of a coat trail past. Rose got up and walked to the door, seeing Russia walking down the hall as silent as the dead.

"Ivan?" She called, blinking as he stopped and turned to her.

"Ah. Rose. I thought you were in the next building, da?"

"Oh. Well, yes. I am." She held onto the doorframe and stood to her maximum height as he took a few steps closer, out of the darker shadows of the hallway that had obscured his face before. "Have you seen Alfred?"

"Nyet. I did not see little America since this morning."

She crossed her arms, dipping her head down slightly and frowning. "I see. Did he say he was going anywhere?" Another wave of the dizziness filled her and she had to cover her eyes for a second.

"Are you feeling well?" Russia asked, and she heard the interest before she glanced up and saw it on his face, halfway between a smile and blank scientific interest. She rolled her shoulders and took a step back into the room, using the frame of the door to support her weight. In all honesty, it felt like she had been drugged with the way her body suddenly felt so lethargic and nebulous.

"I–" She took a breath, the sick feeling gone as quickly as a summer dream. "Yes. I'm okay. A bit cold though." She nodded and dipped her head in a small bow. "Thanks for asking." He nodded and walked away, as silent as before and Rose began to walk back to her desk, wondering why she felt so cold all of a sudden. Footsteps filled the hall, loud this time while she curled into the chair behind Alfred's desk, rubbing both at her arms, which felt as though she had landed into a pile of snow, and head, still feeling as though she had been drugged.

"Then you haven't heard from him either." That was Arthur, though the blonde secretary didn't look up to greet him.

"No. Not since this morning's breakfast. Though Rose can testify for that too." Matthew's soft voice carried through the room and it sounded concerned. A pause of silence and she heard footsteps come closer. "Are you alright Rose?"

"I feel sick." The dizzy feeling was ebbing away to an ache in her teeth and chest, though she was wondering which was worse as her chest throbbed. A hand covered her and pulled it away from her eyes.

"Sick how?" Arthur asked warily and there was an edge to his words that she missed.

"Dizzy, like I was drugged. Cold and now I just plain hurt all over." She twitched as a throb filled her head, threatening to snuff out all other senses with the feeling.

"Since when?"

"Just now. Mostly after I talked to Ivan. "

"You talked to Ivan?" Matthew sounded slightly surprised and Rose snatched her hand back to cover her eyes from the light. A flash of scenery passed though her minds eye: a dark grimy alleyway, five men standing guard. One held a gun, pointed at her. She pulled her hand away, staring at her skin with faint worry.

Arthur and Matthew were talking lowly, though Matthew seemed to notice her change in demeanor. "Rose?"

"I'm going insane." She muttered in stark clarity, looking up to the two nations.

"What does that mean?" Arthur muttered.

"I just saw, dreamed…imagined…?" She rubbed at her ribs, which ached with the feeling of forming bruises from being kicked. "I was in an alley, five men and a gun."

Arthur suddenly grabbed her arms and she gave a cry of surprise. "Can you say anything else!"

"N-no. It was tan brick, dirty snow. That's all. Why?" Arthur let go of her when Matthew pressed against his shoulder.

They gave an odd look, sharing knowledge with that one glance and the Canadian turned to her, soft lavender eyes in gentle worry. "You might have picked up on where Alfred is. A human-nation bond of sorts."

Matthew looked to Arthur in confusion. "I've only heard Francis mention that."

She gaped at him, about to ask just how that was possible when another ache passed through her eyes and she clenched them shut.

She was standing, protecting herself from one of the men while another was moving towards her with a dark look on his face. She could see him, and yet couldn't do anything as he gave a harsh punch (one that made her reel back) and to the ground, cracking her head harshly against the stone of the wall. The man raised his gun and she gazed at him while her vision faded…

"Guh…" She held her head tightly, a tear falling along with something hot and coppery tasting from her mouth. As fingers pried her hand away and she realized she had bitten through her lip. "He's in trouble!" Rose cried out, "We have to help h–"

The words became dead in her throat, hearing the echo of a gunshot reverberate through her mind simultaneously, making her feel numb and cold like a thread had been snipped. She gasped, choking.

The world went black.

* * *

When Rose woke up again, she could hear angry arguing as fingers carded gently through her hair. She yawned gently, feeling comfortable and warm, but most importantly, whole. So unlike that terrible sucking and numb feeling earlier. The angry arguing continued, the same time as the fingers stopped. She cracked an eye open, seeing the blurry outline of a room before she blinked and it became clearer.

"What are they arguing about?" She mumbled, yawning again and turning to the owner of the fingers. Alfred shrugged, blue eyes wavering between her and the shadows of two people. Rose shut her eyes, snuggling back into the sheets and began to doze off again. Fortunately, it was the same time as her mind woke up and she snapped her brown eyes open, staring at a clear and focused ceiling before lunging at her nation, still encircled with the sheets.

"Jones! You're alive! What happened?" She surged onto him and clasped her fingers around his shoulders. Then, pulling back, Rose watched him wince and gnawed at her lip.

Matthew and Arthur stopped arguing, the Canadian taking his hands off of Arthur's sweater. Rose paused and then began to hover over her nation's frame making a soft worried noise from the back of her throat, looking to the bandages swarming around his torso. "You were shot!"

"Eh, yeah. Just Ivan getting back at me. No worries."

"But…but…" Rose pulled the sheets around her. "You died!"  
"Oh. Yeah. I did." America rubbed the back of his neck and the older looking woman realized that he wasn't wearing his glasses. "Not to worry! I'm a nation, so it's hard to really kill me."

Rose was looking at the bandages swathed around his waist. "So what was that?"

"What was what?" Alfred asked in confusion.

"Nation citizen connection." Arthur declared, glaring at Matthew for a moment before looking back to the fully clothed secretary. "Have you heard of Joan of Arc?"

"Uh." Rose noticed how Matthew suddenly looked angry and sad at the same time. Alfred merely blinked while looking at his former caretaker. "Yes?"

"It was said that the girl knew of what trouble was befalling her nation when it came time to fight." Arthur looked sour as both American looked back blankly. "She had a special relationship with Francis and was able to know when he was in trouble. The same was with me and a few of my queens, such as Elizabeth and Victoria." Arthur waved his hand lazily through the air. "Most nations have had it with one person or another: Alexander the Great, Charlemagne…" Arthur trailed off and Rose looked at him as though he had gone insane.

"Those are all famous figures."

"Well I can't name all of the people. I thought you would understand if I named a few."

"What he's getting at," Matthew cut in after a moment, "is that because you spend so much time with Alfred is that you are able to tell when he is in trouble."

Brown eyes turned to meet summer sky blue. "Sort of like how you know how I am doing?"

"I guess." America answered with a one armed shrug.

Rose paused. "That's kind of…"

"Strange?"

"Well I was going to use weird or creepy, but that works." She then looked back to her nation and gave his knee a gentle pat. "No dying."

"It's not like I wanted to," Alfred muttered with a roll of his eyes. "It's fine!" he added at the look she gave him. "Really. No harm done. See?" He pushed down on some of the bandages and despite expecting the raw wound of a gunshot, all she saw was light and healing skin. "Almost all better and no scar."

"I see." Rose ran a hand through her hair, making it bushy and frizzy as she sighed, looking to her nation in silent contemplation while cradling her chin with a curled palm. Then, "What on earth did you do to Russia to have him get five men to shoot you?"

"How did you know that?"

"Never mind it."

"Eh, spy stuff. He was pretty pissed off at something." Alfred had a hard smile and Rose looked away, a wary look on her face.

It wouldn't be the last time she would experience the strange and unique bond.

* * *

_**November, 1960**_

"YES!"

The thirty two year old woman looked at her boss, fingers holding the key to the door and looking to him quizzically. The teenage looking nation was looking at a paper in his hand with the radio on next to him, a great grin filling his face. She paused, not interrupting as he feverishly read the print. Setting her purse on the table, Rose sighed gently in relief. Honestly, she hated November very much. November was the time of year Americans were voting, debating, and in effect– causing Alfred to have mood swings that rivaled anything she had seen during the red scare. One minute he would be bouncing through the room, munching on a burger from McDonalds that had opened up close to the building– to which Rose had a sneaking suspicion that Alfred had a hand in that– reading a comic book or a repot, and then suddenly he would be bitter and sad, moping with an almost grey air to him.

It was during those times she wondered if the people who personified America as a woman weren't too far away some times. But elections were over. The president would be new and Rose could finally breathe. As she sat down, she remembered to schedule in a farewell talk to the current President and a meeting with the elected candidate. It wouldn't do any good for Alfred to come chatting in and having the poor man confused.

"Who won?" She asked carefully, unbuttoning her long charcoal coat and removing her hat. The election had been close between the young Kennedy and current Vice President Nixon.

"It was close, but Kennedy won. Democrats have the house." He smiled at her before looking to the radio, which talked solemnly about how close the race had been, then switched over to one of Elvis' new songs. The guitar was tuned down as Alfred lowered the volume and stood up to his impressive height.

"Are you happy he won?" she asked curiously, setting out the papers she would have to read and go over. She grimaced at the putrid yellow folder containing the numbers of Vietnam, fingering it and seeing angry red and black marks everywhere.

"Oh, well. Yeah I guess. But I gotta say, I'm happy with whoever wins. Ya know?" he gave a light smile. "It's going to be interesting with this guy, I just know it."

Rose nodded, and looked to the myriad of colored folders. Vietnam in yellow, civil rights in blue, deficit in red, Russia in purple, nuclear in black, Presidential memos in white, Nation meetings in grey, and (to Rose's delight and Alfred's annoyance) military in pink.

"So who did you vote for?"

"Huh?"  
Alfred pushed his glasses up farther on the bridge of his nose. "You did vote, right?"

"Oh," Rose paused and cleared her throat. "Of course I did."

"And?"  
She gave a smile. "Doesn't matter now. Kennedy's elected."

"Pllllleeeeaaassseeee?" Alfred whined and Rose handed him an orange binder. "Eight O'clock meeting Alfred. Better get going. Elizaveta won't be too pleased if you keep her waiting."

Alfred sighed, rubbing the back of his head as through dreading the inevitable frying pan, then sauntered out of the room with the binder.

* * *

_**January 1960**_

Rose stood at the threshold in trepidation, nibbling at her lower lip with her teeth in thought. Finally, after hesitating with her hand in midair, Rose knocked gently on the frame.

"Um, Ivan?"

She let herself gnaw more on her lip as the hulking nation looked up from his desk, violet eyes bright in the early morning light. He placed the pen down onto the paper and continued to scratch on the official looking paper. "Da?"

"Um, can I ask for a favor?"

"America is being too much? Should I dispose of him?" Russia asked, still not looking away from the paper and making Rose feel more then nervous. The slightly odd grin on his lips was not helping either though.

"Oh, uh– no. No, that's not the problem." Rose tapped at the wood of the door softly, drumming a staccato tune out. "Actually, I'd rather he didn't find out about this."

That got Ivan to look up finally, chin and full mouth appearing out of the soft layers of his scarf. "You are bleeding," he muttered, tone curious. As Rose swiped at her nose, he pushed away from the desk making a languid gesture for her to come in.

"I thought that had stopped," Rose muttered to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose gently while tipping her head back as to not drip any crimson blood to the floor. Brown eyes flickered warily as Russia paused, tilting his head as he looked at her and then continued on his way to the door and shutting the heavy oak. Her heart fluttered slightly in nervousness.

"What would make you not want to include little America, hm?" He came to a stop by her side and looked down at her from his towering height. "It seems you have been in quite the fight, Da?"

"Yeah." Rose moved her head back, hand cupped over her nose and feeling the blood try to well out again. With a sigh, she looked back to the bland ceiling. "I-well…oh, this is embarrassing," Rose could feel the coppery blood sliding to her stomach and making her feel nauseous. "I was wondering if you had any balm for bruises or anything…stopping nosebleeds too would be nice."

"Why not go to little America?" Ivan was watching her in that mixture of amusement and curiosity again. She met his gaze from the corner of her eyes. "Or Canada or England?"

"They'd probably tell Alfred," she muttered.

"You do not think I would." Russia was moving to his desk, opening a drawer.

Fidgeting, Rose's neck began to ache from the awkward angle. "No. Well, at lest I hope not. I just really don't want to explain to Alfred why I look like this right now."

"You will still have bruises though," Ivan said and placed a thick tissue in her hand. Gratefully, she dipped her head forward and compressed the tissues to her nose. Ivan pointed to a chair and she sat down demurely.

"Yes, but as long as I stop the bleeding I'll just put on makeup and think of some excuse for the swelling."

Russia snorted lightly at that, turning away from a cabinet with a tin in his hand. "If it were anyone but little America, I would say they would figure it out." At that he twisted open the tin and handed it to her. "Rub this across the swelling. It will heal it quickly."

"Thank you." She did as he said, pausing to smile at the sunflower painted on the lid and dipped into the light yellow cream, clawing come out to rub over the tender and split flesh of her cheek and nearly swollen closed eye. It felt cool and already brought relief. "Why do you call him 'little America'?" Rose saw the look he gave her and blushed. "Never mind." They fell into silence.

"Why not tell America?" Ivan asked, violet eyes looking bright and alert.

Rose dabbed the ointment slowly. "I got into a brawl. Not very lady like, no, but there were a few men saying some things that were rude and being ingrates towards the rest of society. And well, Alfred's always warned me about getting into fights seeing as how I'm one lady against usually other men…And the last time I got into a fight he threatened to suspend me…and I just didn't feel like worrying him, that's all. So I came in early to see if uh-well, if anyone had something I could use to help the bruises heal faster."

"You were harmed in a fight," Ivan said bluntly, looking at her deeply. There seemed to be an implied question with that and Rose turned her head as she blushed.

"Oh, I'm fine other then my face. You should have seen the other guys." Indeed.

"Vodka?"

He held out a bottle and Rose hesitated, seriously considering the alcohol before shaking her head. "No, thanks." Russia shrugged and placed it on his desk.

"You do not seem one to fight. What did they say?" He took back the tin as she handed it over and began to screw the lid on.

"What didn't they say?" Rose muttered darkly, thinking of the poor teen the men had been trying to harm. She had been doing very early morning errands, mostly due to lack of sleep and had been walking towards the grocers when she had heard a strange noise in the back of an alley. Pausing, but not entering, she hadn't thought of it until a shill cry was emitted. With that she stormed into the alley, recognizing the pitch to be a young boy's.

When Rose had said bar fight, it wasn't unnecessary true. Three men, drunk out of their minds and reeking of whiskey from their pores were harassing and shoving a dark skinned boy around, racial slurs dropping from their alcohol deadened tongues as quickly as they pushed the teen down.

At the time as she had begun to snap at the men and promising to call for the police, she heard Alfred already lecturing her on just why going into a situation like this was not a good idea and that she should go and get proper help…like a hero.

However, as she began to argue vehemently with the tallest man, about the same height as Francis, she could hear her mother saying 'give them hell' in rapid and vicious French.

Who struck the first blow, she couldn't remember, but she did remember using a few well-placed kicks after a couple of heavy punches down below to grab the frightened teen and run. They had run for a block or so before pausing, and went their separate ways. Now Rose looked to Russia, wondering idly if her nose was broken. Fingers pulling the once white tissue away, she checked to see if she was still bleeding.

Rose touched the tender area around her eye with a one-eyed wince and a long sigh. "Of course, I didn't appreciate it when they were telling me about just what America represents." She snorted, noticing the blood stopped, and met Russia's gaze challengingly. "White skin privilege…what a load of poppycock."

"Ah, that is what little America has been worked up on over lately." Russia placed the tin back in the cabinet and shut it with a long creak. Finally he crossed his legs, shifting back into his chair and gazing at her from over folded fingers. "Da?"

"Da –I mean _yes. _Yes. I'd really rather just not have him worry. It's Friday anyway…I'll just clock out for vacation…He has enough on his plate to think about rather then his secretary getting a little beat up."

"I am sure he will not see it that way." Russia's smile came back and Rose looked to the doorway.

"Yes, well…Thank you ever so much for helping me and I truly need to get going before anyone else comes in." Rose stood up nodding a new times and keeping her bloodied hand and tissue to herself. "Really Ivan, thanks."

"Ah, but I have not told you my payment."

"P-Payment?" Rose fidgeted watching as he rose.

"Da." Russia tilted his head to the side while folding his arms. "I will ask a favor of you one day.

Rose stilled, wondering what could possibly be the payment, but Russia went back to work and dismissed her with silent indifference. Rose scurried off quietly, hoping to make it out of the back door before anyone could see her and pass out on her bed with a bottle of Tylenol.

* * *

_**May 1960**_

She was running now, quickly tapping out a frantic beat against the carpeted ground as she searched for Alfred. _Damn. Damn. Damn_. She cursed in French angrily as she rounded the corner and began to vault down the staircase, skin squealing against metal as she stopped herself from falling.

Dark brown eyes darted seeing the grand set of double doors that lead to the world meetings. She didn't even pause to look at a sulking Sealand sitting cross legged outside the door and muttering about eyebrows before bursting inside without a knock.

Russia was smiling pleasantly at the rest of the nations gathered, and Rose could see the blank looks on England and France's face – a contrast to the annoyed expression of Alfred's. "Ah, finally the West is silent. You have nothing to say now?" He looked at ease and leaned back into his chair.

China was looking to the silent nations in interest, but looked up as he saw Rose standing silently with a bright Purple binder clutched to her chest. Rose met his eyes but then glanced back to her nation.

"Ah, America-san. It seems your secretary needs to talk to you." Japan said, looking at Russia warily.

Alfred blinked then turned to Rose. "What?"

"Mr. Jones, sir. I need to speak to you."

"Can't it –"

"_Now_." She paused and added a grudging, "…sir" to not sound disrespectful in front of the rest of the world.

"Alright, alright. Keep yer pants on." Alfred got up from the table, but as he was pushing away Rose looked to Ivan and saw his smile grow wider.

He already knew.

The curse that spluttered out from her lips in French made Francis wince and she looked to her boss as he came over to her. She just gave him the folder, seeing his eyes widen lightly and then narrow as he began to read. The rest of the room was silent, as though realizing something important was happening and Rose swallowed harshly against the saccharine smile Russia had. She pushed at her bangs and began to twist her hands together.

Alfred was turning a light crimson as he continued to read, though she could tell it was a mixture of anger and embarrassment. "This couldn't have waited?" he muttered quietly.

"N-no." Rose looked back to America, his eyes looking darker in thought. "The President said now."

"So little America has been caught in his lie, has he?" Russia said lightly and all eyes turned to him. Rose and Alfred both winced, though the female secretary's was more pronounced.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"That was no weather plane that crashed in my territory, was it Alfred?" Russia asked, ignoring Arthur.

Rose looked to Alfred and then to the binder in his hands. She had just gotten the call and was trying to stop anything her nation could have been talking about the plane, but it seemed Russia already knew everything and had been patiently waiting.

Rose looked at her own scrawl on one of the papers, having dictated the frantic call in record time. Francis Gary Powers was alive. And that changed the whole game.

"If you know so much about it, why don't you just say so?" Alfred bit out, shoving the folder back to rose and making her rock from his strength.

"Da? Then let me tell a story to you."

"No thanks. I already know how it ends."

Russia looked happy at that. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Me kicking your Commie butt back to Moscow."

Rose looked at her nation and then at the door. A US U2 spy lane had been shot down, and thinking that the pilot was dead, her government had made a cover up story. Of course, she had gotten a phone call just now telling her that the Russians were just keeping silent to see how much they could get America to talk. This was not good, even more so with the Paris summit about to commence in a few days. The leaders and the Nations of England, America, Russia and France were going to have a talk. The timing for the spy plane being found was bad.

Rose glanced again to her nation, and watched as Russia continued with his smile. "Ah, you see now. I stayed silent to see how much you would say, and you said many silly things America."

America looked at Rose, ignoring his enemy. Taking a pen out of his breast pocket, he scrawled a short note on one of the pages. "Tell them this." And that was her dismissal as she watched Alfred sit back at the table, an equally unnerving smile on his lips.

As she trotted off hurriedly to call the White House back, she couldn't help but feel that the relations between America and Russia were about to deteriorate fast.

* * *

doo do doo...so yes._ Mystical _Connection thingy...it will be used later on with all the stuff goin' down. So although we have seen it from America, needed to reenforce it with Rose. Also, THE COLD WAR JUST GOT REAL, YO. hmmm. very important event. I just love some of the things Khrushchev said...it's so...Russian. And Kennedy. Yay! Too bad he dies. :( And ROse now owes Russia a favor...hmmmmmm. I wonder what that will be.

PS I am now fearing for my life. So many threats for Frank and Rose *Hides under desk and waves white flag*

_OKAY. NOW IT IS TIME TO THANK THE SUPER DUPER HISTORY LOVING SAINT LIKE DEALING WITH AUTHORESS'S WHINY BOUT AND NOT KILLING HER TIME AND SPACE LIKE DOCTOR WHO AWESOME PEEPS WHO DESERVE TO BE CALLED WICKED AWESOME AND FANTASTIC PEOPLE WHO ARE KNOWN AS SUCH:_

**cross-over-lover232, LuckyNumbers, ficfan3484, PrussianAwesomeness, just another fma fan, Lumoa, alabaster-demon, Hikari Kame, BarefootBliss, Sunako-s-wrath, Sweetest Possible Revenge, Roschian-Lorelei, Tea-PartyCrasher, EEvee, rultas, Anonymous, , Axxi, Trisana Tennant, Ceri Siracha, Silvermoon of Forestclan, **and** candy4yourEYEZ** :D

_pps. Gift Fic for 200th reviewer._


	15. Chapter 13

Oh dear...I give you all the permission to throw rocks at me. I can't believe I went this long without updating! For some reason, the early 1960's is just strife, strife, strife. Well, at least I can move onto 1962-65 now yay. Any who, I know most of you must be chomping at the bits for the Beatles, but they really didn't become super popular until 1963+ so...*shrugs* they'll get here eventually...as will drugs...and civil rights...and space...oh yeah my favorite- the Cuban missile crisis. So, updates should be more often now that I'm back with my roommate who motivates me to write. So, without further ado, here is the next chapter.

_Chris

* * *

May 1961

Tongue peeking out from the corner of her mouth, Rose wobbled on her tiptoes, pushing the pin into the ceiling. She craned her neck to the side, checking the alignment of the other objects now attached and hanging from the ceiling. She smiled and held onto the chair to carefully step down from the wooden chair. Rose put the chair back into the corner of the room and glanced quickly to her desk, fiddling with the ring on her finger before tucking her bangs to the side. Warm brown eyes took in the sight of the stack of papers and binders on her desk, still next to her typewriter.

Sitting back in her seat, Rose picked up a heavy folder filled with blacked out information and red scribbles. A sigh parted her lips and she glanced back at her new blue typewriter, glowering at the new technology. The new type writer. Ugh. A sudden vision of the machine just 'magically' falling out of the window and crashing into a thousand pieces skipped across her thoughts and she smiled conspiratorially. Rose toed the power cord, wondering idly if the machine falling from the desk would harm it enough to warrant the return of her trusty old typewriter with the sticking keys.

The sound of the door handle being turned caught her attention and Rose turned away from the folder, watching Alfred sweep through the room, his nose in a book as he walked and read. She watched him maneuver around the stack of comic books tossed to the floor earlier that day and slide into his chair, propping his feet up without looking away from his book. Cocking her brow slightly, Rose turned back to her desk and with a small cringe she began to use the new electric typewriter.

"So how did the meeting go?" Rose asked, gleaning a few facts from the report and retyping it into a legible form. Alfred hummed and mumbled something unintelligible, flipping the page in the book. Rose paused, turned around in her chair and watched her boss. "Alfred," she tried again, but got just as good of a response. With a small pout followed by a silent sigh, the blonde said, "Communism."

Alfred's eyes shot away from the book, startled as he looked at his secretary. "What?"

Rose smiled and turned back to the typewriter. "You were ignoring me. What's so fascinating anyway?" She twisted one of the pages of the report to decide if the scribble was an 'I' or and 'F'.

America scowled, his bright blue eyes narrowing with his expression. It quickly changed though as he looked around the office. "Uh, it's a theoretical essay on fluid dynamics from this kid at MIT I met, which might be in handy for NASA right now…what's with the planets?" He looked stood up, reaching up at poking at the sun figurine hanging over his desk.

"I thought it might be inspiring. It's not to scale mind you, but hey– I'm a secretary, not a mathematician." She looked up lovingly at the little models of the planets. "Doesn't look so far away, does it?"

Alfred poked the sun again, watching the yellow globe swing back and forth. "Nah, and that's why we'll get there first." He gave a sunny smile, waving the essay back and forth and plopped back into his chair.

* * *

August 1961

Rose was lounging on her sofa, a small red thing that she had bought by herself almost ten years ago. The middle sagged lightly now, but she didn't mind too much. She was curled up, covered by a blanket as she read the newspaper. Mindlessly, her thin fingers traced the rim of the warm ceramic mug in between sips of coffee. The clock on the mantle chimed nine and Rose folded the paper together before sliding off the couch to make a late breakfast. Letting the paper fall to the floor, she sighed and turned to the kitchen tightening the tie of her midnight blue robe.

There was so many problems in the world now, Rose mused to herself, opening the fridge to pull out a few eggs and berries before searching for the flour. She could almost measure the amount of strife in the world by the amount of paperwork and reports she had to file. Yes, so far it had been a tumultuous year, not even adding to the stress that she was going to be married in a few months. At that thought, Rose began to beat the egg batter harshly, face set in a small scowl. She had wanted to only go to city hall, get all the paper work done and then spend a weekend away. However, that quickly got changed thanks to both her mother and Alfred's help.

Rose turned on the stove, pulling out butter to grease the pan with and then added blueberries to her pancake mix. She tucked her bangs away from her face and went to turn on the record player sitting in the corner of her living room apartment. Once Ben E. King's voice began to croon over the speaker, Rose returned to the kitchen to pour some of the batter into the pan. She held the spatula threatening towards the pancakes. At first it had been Frank wanting to have his parents and his sister present, to which Rose agreed. Somehow, and Rose still had no idea how that happened, her mother called up distressed asking why she wasn't going to be able to see her only daughter's wedding— and, she reminded Rose, she wasn't getting any younger. At that Rose had capitulated and decided a small gathering at a local church would be fine, as long as the numbers stayed small. But since there would be a traditional ceremony, Rose had needed someone to walk her down the aisle.

She flipped the pancake and watched it slowly turn golden brown, breathing in the scent deeply. She had asked Alfred, of course. It made sense to Rose since, in a way, Alfred was probably closest to her. So she had asked him and he had happily said yes. After that, it had somehow spiraled into having others from work and some of Rose's old friends from her hometown in Maine. Then she had been cautioned that if she had invited Matthew (who was bringing Kyatusha), Arthur, and Francis, then she would have to invite the rest of the building too. So now Rose was stuck with a wedding party of over a hundred people and the stress was making her want to sob.

Putting the pancakes onto the table, Rose momentarily wondered if she should also have a side of vodka or gin with her breakfast, but decided against it. She glanced up from the food, her eyes falling to the picture frame still on her mantle. She chewed on her lip, leaning back in the chair and staring at the portrait. Promptly, she turned around in her chair and took the plate into her lap, looking out the kitchen window as she ate rather then at the living room. Halfway through her stack of pancakes, a knock came at her door and Rose turned, staring at her door in confusion. When the knock returned, Rose stood up and walked over to the door. As she opened the door, she heard one of the scariest and most happy sounds.

"Oh Rosemary, dear. Open the door. Your mama can't stand with this luggage much longer. _Ma fille, _I'm not getting any younger!"

Rose blinked, opening the door fully as she stared down at the woman standing across from her. "Mama? _Pourquoi êtes vous ici_?" Why was her mother here? How did she get here? She took the case of luggage from her mother and let her in. The sudden shock of seeing her mother passed and Rose smiled warmly. "Mama, it's wonderful to see you again." She quickly hugged the smaller woman and stepped back. "I wasn't expecting you though. I'm afraid the place is a bit of a mess."

Her mother waved her white gloved hand, taking off her purple hat and placed it on the rack by the door. She patted down her grey hair saying, "Well someone has to take you shopping for your dress, _non_? Where is Frank?"

"Oh, uh, he's in California right now with some business. We don't live together anyway, not yet."

Her mother rolled her eyes, "When I was your age I had already lived with three men, lived- not been with mind you. I had been with many more." Ignoring Rose's red face, her mother walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. "You _have_ been with Fank, _oui_?"

"Mama!"

"Oh, I don't know what it is with you American girls and your vir-"

"Thank you, mama, but we don't need to go over this."

"_Non_?"

"_Non_." Rose furrowed her fingers through her hair. "Just how did you get here anyway?"

"Oh, I took the train. From Boston, mind you."

"But how did you get here?" Rose pressed, walking back to the kitchen and turned the stove back on. She paused and glanced at her mother, "You didn't call anyone did you?"

"Now why would you think that?" Rose's mother crossed her legs, looking over the side of the couch. "I am perfectly capable of calling a cab."

Rose didn't say anything as she waited for the pan to heat up. She was always wary of her mother especially considering how awful that Thanksgiving had gone a few years ago when Alfred, Matthew, Francis and Arthur had come. To say her mama was delighted with Francis was an understatement. Even though she had only met Francis three times, she always made sure to ask how he was doing and what he was up to at the office.

"Oh I don't know mama, pancakes?"

"_Merci_." Her mother moved from the living room and joined her in the kitchen. "Any idea for your honeymoon?"

Rose flipped one of the pancakes and looked at the golden brown side. "Uh, well Frank wants to go to France- especially since I know French already, but I'm thinking maybe Montana."

Her mother raised a brow, her chin resting in her palm and yet managed to somehow look scandalized. "Montana?"

"Yeah." Rose plated a few of the pancakes and looked to her mother. Noticing how appalled she looked, Rose put her hands on her hips. "_Qu'est-ce_?"

"Montana? You would rather go to Montana than _France_?" She shook her head, graying chestnut hair bouncing. "_Vous me briser le cœur_!" her mother cried.

"I work with plenty more people who are more dramatic than that, mama. You've got to be better than that."

Her mother hummed and took part in the pancakes her daughter had given. "Perhaps, but truly, whatever you choose will be made perfect because it will be with someone you love."

Rose glanced over to her mother and smiled. "Thank you mama." Her mother smiled and continued to eat. Maybe her mother visiting wouldn't be so bad.

"Rosemary, if you want to fit into a wedding dress you might want to cut back on that syrup."

"Mama!"

* * *

February 1960

Rose was standing in the darkened office, the lights turned off and allowing the watery grey light to seep in from the windows. The rain outside taped against the glass of the windows. Her hand was over her mouth, brown eyes wandering over the contours of the map placed up only a few hours ago. It was terrifying. She leaned against the edge of Alfred's desk, dragging her hand away from her mouth to tap her fingers along the wood. The door creaked softly as it opened, but Rose's eyes were still staring at the new map.

It was only when a file hit her desk that she looked up, looking over to Alfred. Neither said anything, and Alfred headed over to the coffee pot in the corner of the office, pulling his blue mug from a shelf. "Headache?" he asked, gesturing towards the shut off lights before pouring the steaming liquid into his cup.

"Something like that," she replied quietly, shutting her eyes for a second and listening to Alfred move about the office- ruffling through stacks of paper and sipping at the black coffee. Taking a slow breath, she reopened her eyes and looked back at the map.

"Something wrong Rose?" Alfred asked, and she twisted her head to see him giving a concerned glance, looking away from his paperwork with a frown.

"Nothing. Things are just falling into place for me now." She turned back to the map, knowing he would follow her gaze. "And to be honest, I'm scared."

There was a scratch of pen on paper before the room fell back into its silence. The patter of rain leached into the room. Alfred finally hummed and Rose pushed away from his desk, turning towards the blond American man as he leaned back in his chair, leather creaking. "I wish I could say all that was fat," he said, nodding at the map of the world. "Then things would be a lot calmer."

Rose watched him furrow his hand through his hair, twisting back to the map as he sighed. "But it's not."

"No. But things are okay.

"That's almost a third of the world." She pointed to the map, covered in blood red everywhere that was under soviet control. She hated thinking it, but the United States looked almost small in comparison. England and France looked even smaller and more fragile on the map, only a sliver of land separating them before the sea of red. She might be fretting more if she didn't know what kind of people they were, but she still looked at the map fretfully. "I don't like this map" Rose finally muttered childishly, walking to her desk a few feet away and picking up a file. Pursing her lips as she scanned through the files quickly, she tucked a curl of blonde hair behind her ear and walked over to the bookcase between the windows.

There was a soft chuckle and Rose looked from the corner of her eye as America looked contemplatively at his coffee. "Well, I don't like the map either. I especially don't like all the red." He snorted and took a sip, muttering into his cup "Commie bastard."

She looked back down at the black binder in her hands, clenching the vinyl tightly. "Do you think it'll happen?"

She didn't have to explain before her nation's eyes narrowed sharply, summer blue eyes seemingly growing darker. He rested his lips against the mug's rim for a moment, the steam fogging his glasses before he put the coffee down. "I don't know."

Rose put the binder on her desktop, sliding into her desk and opening her drawer to grasp her red pen. She got about to marking the date before she turned to look at Alfred again, her eyebrows pitched together in a sharp 'V'. "How close was it?"

America flipped over a page in the report he had brought in, not looking up at her. "Pretty damn close," he finally sighed. Blue eyes wavered back and forth as he skimmed the text. "North Carolina would be really hurting if something had gone wrong with the safety."

Rose circled a few words on her paper, crossing out an outdated codename before forcefully rewriting in, crinkling the paper slightly. "A plane carrying two nuclear bombs crashes in North Carolina." She shook her head and crossed out another outdated codename muttering, "We are more than lucky. It was a god's grace they didn't detonate."

"I know."

She paused and rubbed at her forehead, looking out of the window to where the rain was starting to turn back into snow. "Three countries with nuclear arms, You, Russia, France and England. China's on his way and who knows how many other nations." Rose put her pen down and pulled at the seams of her sweater, pulling the wool closer to her frame. "What's the future going to be like?"

Alfred didn't respond.

* * *

April 1961

"And what the hell were you thinking!" Rose screeched, fingers tight around a white piece of paper. It was heavy, an expensive paper that carried the presidential seal. It crinkled together in her hands though as she watched Alfred pace back and forth behind his desk.

At her loud words, he looked up, blue eyes flashing in anger. "I was thinking I have a war on each side now!

"What does Korea have to do with this? Cuba! _Merde_! Alfred this is…it's…" She threw her hands in the air, letting out a sound of anger. "It's completely _fucked_ up!"

"Yeah. I kind of realized that." Alfred continued to pace, twitching every so often as though he wanted to strike out at the wall. Gritting his teeth, he folded his arms tightly.

"Well what went wrong? A thousand people just don't…" She turned around slamming the memo to her desk, looking out at the blinds that covered the dark windows.

Alfred waved his hands angrily and Rose was glad their was a desk between them. "The damn KGB and…damn it!" He hit his desk with a solid fist, making Rose flinch lightly, but she kept her gaze on her nation.

"Russia knew."

"Yeah. Appearantly." He grit his teeth and clenched his hands. "Apparently a Moscow radio mentioned it. Did we pick it up? No. We find out after the damn invasion _after_ the whole thing."

"Why?"

"I needed Castro out. It's no good."  
Rose turned and walked to the far end of the office, staring up a red map while grasping her fingers tightly. "The executions re only starting. All of this is a bloody mark against you." She turned her head, feeling anguished suddenly as the weight of the failed mission seemed to finally become real.

"Nothing good can possibly come from this."

Alfred was staring at the shades over the window. Outside it was dark, passing from late night to early morning. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and swore softly. "I know."

Walking back to her desk, she un-crumpled the paper and stared at the names of the hired CIA agents already executed from the failed invasion. She didn't even want to think of the others not named on the list. Her eyes pulled away from the paper and to her boss, wondering if she felt so anguished, angry, despaired and terrified…what was he feeling? She brought her voice down, removing the harshness that had been there only minutes before when she had read through the failed Bay of Pigs Invasion update. "And now?"

Alfred had turned around, hand against the wall as he rested his head against his forearm. "We ride it out."

"We ride it out. Cuba and Russia will no doubt be here tomorrow…later in the morning," she corrected herself, realizing it was three in the morning. She rubbed at her eyes, wondering with all the chaos that had been going on when the last time she had slept.

There was a deep sigh, bone weary, but the American woman didn't dare look at America. "Yep. That's when the fun begins." Rose rubbed at her eyes again, and fought the urge to cry. No doubt she was over tired and over worrying. "…You can go home Rose. I've got things here."

She glanced up through her parted fingers. "Go home?" she questioned and then stood up straight, looking directly into America's tired blue eyes. "You want me to go home now after all this? Hah." She sat down, kicking off her shoes and poised her hands to type. "My job is to look after you. What kind of secretary leaves her boss in a problem neck deep?"

"A secretary usually deals with paperwork," Alfred said tiredly, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. A ghost wavering though his voice.

"Yes, well." Rose stared at the crumpled and torn memos, picking them up with a frown before trying to smooth them out. "I'm here and you're not kicking me out. Even if I think it was idiotically done." There she hit the space bar slightly too hard, "No doubt there will be a committee formed to go over what on earth went wrong, someone ought to keep track of all these papers." She began typing out the first line of one of the papers that 'didn't exists' before waving her hand. "And if anyone needs sleep…it's you. I think we're going to be sleeping with one eye open for a year or two."

"I've already been doing that since 1941," America muttered, plopping down into his seat while pulling the rotary phone close to him.

For some reason, Rose didn't quite doubt him.

* * *

May 1962

Humming along to a tune Rose only had heard on the radio a few minutes ago, she began to dust the top of the bookshelf. Some jingle began to chime on the radio and Rose paused in her cleaning to skip over to the window and pull it open, warm spring air flowing into the building. The drone of cars in the city played alongside the faint chirps of a nearby bird. Smiling, Rose tapped her rag out and watched the grey dust swirl into the blue sky.

There was a thunderous sound coming from behind her and Rose twisted to grab her spray bottle to clean the window. "How was the meeting?" she asked, dipping her head to the beat of the new song that began to croon out of the radio. She spritzed the cleaning solution onto the glass and began to rub at it clockwise. "I figured that spring-cleaning was on the agenda and—" she screeched as two hands wrapped around her shoulders twirling her around.

Her face fell, as did her heart. She held the bottle up instinctually, trying to take a step back but the hands held on tight. "Ivan? I don't think Alfred will be too happy seeing you in here." She then whispered, "Please go away- I don't want trouble."

"It does not matter if I am supposed to be here or not. I am here to collect on a favor." His violet eyes flickered to the door and then back to her face.

Rose grew pale and she tensed. "What?"

"The favor. You remember, da? We made it not long ago."

"Ah…Yes…I do. I mean..." Rose cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, looking up gravely at the man towering over her. "I know I promised a favor a payment, but I'm not giving up national secrets. You'll just have to kill me first."

Russia rolled his eyes at her, but his grip tightened and she winced. "America is rubbing off on you." He let go and closed the door quickly, tuning back to face Rose with a serious face. "I need you to hide me."

"Huh?"

* * *

Ahaha, semi-cliffhanger again *shot*. If anyone has any lovely idea's for future chapters, I am always eager to read them. Even if I don't use it, it always helps jumpstart five other ideas. I hope you are all well dear readers, and happy belated New Year. And please pardon my French, I am a Japanese student, not a French one so I truly have no idea how right or wrong it is.

_OKAY. NOW I WOULD LIKE TO THANK THE SUPER DUPER AWESOME WICKEDLY PATIENT AS AWESOME AS GEORGE WASHINGTON RIDING A T-REX WHILE BATTLING SHARKS WITH LAZERS. YES. THAT AWESOME. THESE PEOPLE ARE KNOWN AS SUCH:_

**FullmetalShinigami21096, chrono-contract, LuckyNumbers, Lumoa, Trisana Tennant, cross-overolover232, Suanko-s-wrath, alabaster-demon, Rose, Silvermoon of Forestclan, rultas, AmmyMoth, Axxi, Tea-PartyCrasher, just another fma fan, **and** bellaciao** :D

Again, _Gift Fic for 200th reviewer._


	16. Chapter 14

Well hello all! I hope you've been in better health than I. I wont go into much, because I doubt you want to hear excuses...but lets just say Karma or the Universe has a little bit of mean streak. I'm afraid I haven't edited this too much, and I will go back through it on the 25th, or 26th when I return from vacation. I'd do it now, but its midnight and I have a plane to catch in four hours. So, here is the story and reviews are loved greatly :) Finals are soon for me too so I can't say this will be updated in a few weeks or not. I hope it will be though.

_Chris

* * *

_May 1962_

Rose stared at Russia, the spray bottle in her hands forgotten. "What?" she asked, blinking in surprise. Ivan was glancing at the door, looking more nervous each second. There was some sort of sound coming from the hall, but she couldn't make out just what the words were exactly.

"I need you to hide me, quickly…Da?" Russia muttered, articulating his words quickly.

She put the spray bottle down on her desk and then looked about the office. "I suppose under America's desk?" She took off the bandanna from her head and to the open windows where sunlight was pouring in. Once she glanced back, she watched Russia crouch under the desk, only the tuft of his hair still visible before disappearing as the door slammed open, America striding while looking agitated and red in the face. Behind him trailed Belarus, her face wan in white anger and holding onto the back of America's bomber jacket.

"I know you have hidden brother," she muttered, letting go when America turned around to try and get away from her grasp. Rose simply held onto the boom nearby, ready to use it if need be.

"Look. I told you already. I am not, and would never hide him. We hate each other. Why don't you go torment some baby seals or something…" He walked over to the coffee pot and poured a cup, muttering under his breath as Belarus scanned the room.

"Then you will not mind if I look for him?"

"Be my guest." America put sugar into the black liquid, staring out at the city.

Rose simply watched as Belarus began to prowl around the office, starting by the back wall where a large map of the world hung. Rose looked to Alfred, trying to warn him with eye contact, but in his surly mood he was glowering about the room.

"What do you even want with him?" America asked, finally looking to Rose and giving her an odd look at seeing her petrified face.

"We're to be married. I have the contract in my office and Lithuania will be our witness." Belarus continued to look about the room with her stoic face and Rose watched, startled by the glint of metal in her sash and realizing it was a knife.

"Wishes to ya." Alfrered murmured and sat down in his office chair, Rose lurched towards him, her hand out as she watched him pause, eyebrows furrowing together in confusion and then watching his face slowly turn even more red.

"Ah…" Rose said, her hand still reaching out and America looked up at her. Belarus walked by, glancing under her desk before moving on to checking the closet.

Now normally, Rose knew, America had little to no tact. He would tell you quite bluntly if that shirt looked awful or if something sounded boring and therefore he would not do it. However, her look of terror seemed to allow his brain to use its filter for instead of jumping up and asking what or who was under his desk, he simply looked calmly to her and asked, "New office equipment?"

"N-new…yes. I thought you might like it."

"Aw, that was sweet of you. I've always wanted a footstool." He leaned back and, as Rose guessed, was propping his feet on Russia. The American secretary blanched while America simply hummed a patriotic song and signed a few papers, his mood instantly becoming bright and sunny.

Belarus came to the door and looked on sourly. "It seems brother is not here. But I will find him." She turned with a twirl of her skirt and marched out of the office, intent on finding her brother.

Rose shuddered, holding tightly onto her broom and watched as Alfred continued to hum.

"Jones?"

"Yeah, Williams?"

"You can let him out now."

He simply smiled and peered under the desk, grinning even more devishly than before. "Nah, she's probably still outside. Besides, I think I like this new footstool a lot. And if it thinks of doing anything I'll kick it."

Rose stared, rubbed her brow and muttered, "I'm going to go get England's paperwork." She left and closed the door behind her.

* * *

Modern Day

Rose typed away on her computer, a sleek looking thing that made no noise but the quick clacking of her keys. When Rose talked to her friends, they were baffled that she knew what Google was and how to use it. She sent an email off to Spain's secretary and then leaned back, rubbing her wrists before slowly standing up to get a cup of tea.

There was no denying it, Rosemary was getting old. She saw doctors more often, found things were failing that she never knew existed and took more pills than a drug addict. But her mind was healthy and she could interact with all the people around her so Rose still worked. And secretly, Rose knew she would work until she died. The time to retire had long passed, at least fifteen years since the time to reasonably retire had gone. But Rose loved her job, even if drove her to her wits end…but someone had to make sure America stayed well and Rose would be damned if she just left. Besides, if she was ever going to have left she would have after the day she thought the world would end.

* * *

_October, 1962_

Rose was standing on the tarmac by black car, looking at the plane heading to Washington as she fiddled with the blue tie wrapped in her fingers. Alfred was glancing to the plane as the engines started, buzzing loudly as it called for them to hurry. She looked up, meeting bright blue eyes as she finished the knot and put her hands back down to her sides.

"Promise me you'll get some sleep." It was an odd request when she thought the world was about to end, but she muttered it anyways.

"I'll try. Commie ain't makin this easy." Alfred swallowed and looked out to the still dark blue morning sky, the sun only starting to warm the air up. "It might actually happen."

Rose swallowed, looking out to the sun and then back to her nation, tittering and fixing his jacket as any mother would. "Mutually Assured Destruction," The words were heavy and felt hard. She brushed off his shoulders, going to the balls of her feet to do so and watched the lint and dust fall away.

"We can't call off the quarantine. Kennedy wont."

"It's an act of war." But Rose's words were bland with information they both knew, had known for a while. How had it gone from one day in October, simply watching the tenseness in the building, to wondering if this would be the last sunrise the world would see? "You'll miss your plane," she added while rubbing her neck, wisps of loose hair ticking her cheek and hand.

"It's not going anywhere without me." Alfred rubbed the brim of his hat and looked to Rose squarely. "You go home now, get into a shelter."

"Isn't that a little much?" When America only glanced back to the reddening horizon, Rose rubbed her arms against the cold October winds. "That bad. Are we really going to war?"

"I most certainly hope not." He turned to Rose and placed a hand on her shoulder. She gave a smile, the urge to salute echoing through her bones.

"Go home," he urged her again. "You can't be too safe. Go to a shelter and then wait." He paused, tilting his head while adjusting his glasses. "Promise?"

"Of course."

She watched as he walked quickly to the plane and she got into the car, staring out of the window as the plane closed and began to move. Her brown eyes glanced out to the horizon. Ten days of talks and threats. Would October 26th really be the last day she was to be alive? She hummed, rubbing her thigh in effort to stay calm and asked the driver to take her home.

And so she stared out of the window while the world passed by in tones of green and black and grey. She thanked the driver, Bill who covered his balding spot with a cap save when he took it off when meeting a lady, and slowly walked up the stairs to her apartment.

October 26.

There was nothing she could do. Sure, she could go to the office and try to get mundane work done. After all, just because the world was ending didn't mean that paperwork didn't have to get signed. She chuckled at that, feeling the bubbles rise in her throat. But it felt so wrong to laugh, so it came out as a breathy chuckle.

Alfred was heading off to Washington DC so he could be within the war room and know what was happening at the exact time. Many of the other nations had headed home earlier in the month, sensing tensions were rising to the breaking point. So the building normally so filled with life was now dead and quiet. Rose hated quiet. It reminded her of the dead.

She pulled at her honey hair, rubbed the lines across her brow and sat in her apartment alone. The sound of the radio was her only companion, along with the cheep cooking wine that filled her glass. Once her neighbor Monica came in, asking in hushed and worried tones if it was best to leave the city. When Rose could only explain that really nowhere was safe, Monica left to push her sons bed next to hers – fearing it would be the last night they lived.

Her mother called, but she was gay with liquor and dreams of the past. He hiccupped in French, called out to her dead husband and then the butcher who she was dating. Rose put the phone down and waited. It was the end of them. It was the end of the world. Echoes of the President's words floated around the news stations. "_A difficult and dangerous effort on which we have set out. No one can foresee precisely what course it will take or what cost or casualties will be incurred_" quoted one station. Another reported Kennedy saying, "Worldwide nuclear war in which even the fruits of victory would be ashes in our mouth."

Rose supposed he was right. She tapped a cigarette out onto a plate, watching the grey haze float to the ceiling and cloud the air. She should call Frank; ask him how he was doing in California. Maybe she should call his sister, ask her how she and her daughter were and if they needed anything. Rose could have done this. Should have done it.

Instead she sucked a rare cigarette into her lungs and stared at the portrait that did not look back on her mantle, the photo turning yellow in age.

* * *

_April 1967_

Rose was normally calm, or at least she liked to think that she was. But when she was being called by the President's office every ten minutes to know _why the hell their nation wasn't responding_ she became a little panicked. Truly, if she could go back in time, Rose would simply place herself into a coma to avoid this whole decade. It was nothing but strife. Strife and the children acting insane. Rose didn't have children, and knew she would really never would, but with all the music and bizarre groups emerging on the radio, she had to wonder if it was the stress of this decade.

Or the drugs. That could be it.

But this year was terrible. Only halfway in, there were riots across the country. Three of their astronauts had died in a simulated launch, they were in the Vietnam War, military coups and upheavals…. All in all, it was a good thing Alfred had the youth of a child who had eaten too much sugar for she didn't know how he came into the office every morning with a bright grin on his face.

Rose shook her head, moving away from her typewriter to stretch and go look for her nation. Her shoulders ached and she rubbed at them quickly, pulling the door open and locking it behind her. Not only had the world become chaotic, but her own universe was falling apart too.

Frank was moving to California and Rose was not.

They were married now, wedded within city hall with only America as witness because they had gone after her shift. So here they were: married, not living together, and her husband about to move out to LA to become a partner in a firm. Rose tugged at her honey hair and swept the bangs out of her eyes. Passing by Hungary, she gave a quiet hello and continued to look for the bright golden hair she was so used too. Of course, Rose could just give up on her job of nearly twenty years and become the domestic housewife her mother had once been. After all, girls these days were burning their bras in retaliation to the system…and while she was part of the system not living within a normal marriage would be fine for her.

Rose muttered out a small curse when she couldn't find America. He wasn't even in the broom closet; which for once was unoccupied. Also odd was the fact that she could not find Canada, who was missing from his office. When she had asked Katyusha, she had been signing papers and admitted she had not left her desk since that morning.

Rose bit her lip, looking towards the stairs and twirled her fingers together, rubbing them in a circular motion. The only place that could be left was the stairs and so she sighed, hand resting on the banister before she made her way up the stairs. Before reaching the top step however, she paused while wrinkling her nose. A sweet yet noxious smoke was seeping through the cracks of the stairwell and assaulting her nose. Sniffing again with a strange look, she swung the door open to the cool April air, blinking against the bright sunlight. She stepped out, her heels tapping against the roof as she looked around, stopping at the sight of two figures perched near the end of the roof and sighing.

However, at the ring of giggling she heard, Rose straightened before walking over to her nation and Canada, patting down her hair in a nervous gesture. Alfred looked up, lying against the stone barrier and gave a lazy smile. "Hey Rosy!"

Rose paused, wincing at the nickname and cleared her throat, "America, the President wants to talk to you. You didn't return his phone call yesterday."

He hummed, pulling his legs up and picking at a piece of lint on his pants. "I'll call 'im later," he finally drawled out and looked to his brother who just snorted.

Staring at the two nations, she tilted her head in confusion. The rolled cigarette in Alfred's hand was obviously the source of the noxious smoke and Rose pulled her collar up to her nose. "What on earth is that?" she asked through the fabric of her blouse.

"The best friggin stuff ever." America giggled again and then looked up to the sky, before elbowing Canada and calling, "Dude. That sky is so fucking blue. It's like…forever blue."

Rose stilled as she stared at the two men sprawled lazily on the roof, surrounded by burgers and bags of potato chips. Finally she choked out, "Are…Alfred Jones. Are you _high_?" Her voice peaked slightly as she began to panic. She could already envision the phone call: _Oh no Mr. President…Alfred can't come to the phone right now. Oh no. He's fine other than he's high out of his mind right now. Can I take a message?_

Yes, that would go over well.

"Yeah." Alfred took another drag and exhaled. Rose simply stared between the two nations, not knowing what to do. Alfred turned to his brother and rested his head on the other's shoulders despite the muted protest. "Dude. I love you so freaking much."

When Alfred bolted up to announce how hungry he was his glasses nearly fell off his face. Canada grabbed them and fixed them, announcing, "Texas, chill the fuck out." He then proceeded to chuckle. In turn Alfred snorted in laughter.

Rose twisted the fabric of her shirt tightly as she continued to watch with wide brown eyes at the two laughing nations. She rubbed at her face, contemplating retrieving another nation to help her or give advice. America, who was needed for an important phone call with the president–who was _not _going to be amused with this whole situation– was giggling at every utterance shared between him and his brother.

America, Jones. What am I supposed to do with you?" Rose rubbed her head again and looked to the door. What should she do? She needed a bottle of whiskey.

"Rose, relax. You're freaking me out with how tense you are."

Rose turned around, her skirt unfurling with the quick movement. "I'm freaking you out!"

"Just relax." His words were still drawled and lazy and he leaned against Matthew, looking up to the blue April sky with bloodshot and yet calm eyes. Rose continued to stare at them and sat down on the rooftop. When America turned to look at her, she folded her arms and growled out, "I am going to kill you when you calm down from this. Until then, I will make sure neither of you do anything stupid."

"Stupid like what?" Canada murmured, brushing a lock of hair away from his eyes.

"Like starting a war–"

"We're already in that," America sang, cutting her off. He blinked and raised his hands, clapping once. "Mattie, hey. Matt. Matt. Did you realize high-fiveing yourself is clapping! That's awesome!"

Rose stared at the two nations and sighed. "Should anything surprise me anymore?" she muttered and kept her arms folded as she waited.

* * *

_November 1963_

It was November, almost time for Thanksgiving, and Rose was trying to finish up some paperwork so she could head home and pack before going to Maine to visit her mama. She crossed out a few letters, underlying a few more words and then set it on the table with a furrowed brow. She tapped her pen and then capped it, gathering all her stuff and preparing to walk back up to the offices. Alfred had been hosting a small meeting in his office and Rose had taken the large meeting room that the nations always met in.

She glanced at the clock as she started to walk out the door. It was almost time for lunch and Alfred should have been done with the meeting. Rose pulled on her cardigan, feeling a bit of a chill from the autumn winds of the open windows.

As she walked back up the stairs and through the multiple hallways, Rose noticed someone else walking towards her. "Hey Elizaveta," she said with a smile, greeting one of the few female nations.

She smiled back, touching the flower pinned in her hair. "Hello Rose, going for lunch?"

She hummed in response, coming to a stop as they met. "Yes, I was just going to put these papers down and go out."

"Why don't you come with me? India, Seychelles, Lichtenstein, Ukraine and I are all going out. Why not join us instead of being surrounded with all these guys?" She gave a grin and hooked her hand over Rose's shoulder. "I never did get to finish that conversation with you."

Rose flushed and cleared her throat. "Ah, well. I suppose it couldn't harm anything. Let me just go finish this and I'll meet you down in the lobby."

"Sounds great! See you in a bit!" She seemed to skip off and Rose could have sworn that she had a frying pan in that bag of hers.

Continuing down the hallway, Rose looked back to the paper until all for a sudden she felt a sudden fear grip her heart. She choked on air for a moment and it passed, leaving her dropping the papers as she held the cloth over her heart. Staring at the strewn papers, she looked up in panic, mind somehow knowing instinctually that something was very, very wrong. "America." She breathed and took off down the hall, not even bothering to gather the papers.

She pushed the oak door open, falling into the office at top speed. Alfred was on the floor, back towards her but clutching at his head and chest. "Alfred!" She cried and rushed over to him, kneeling down to his height and so she could see his face.

He looked up at her blankly for a moment, as though he couldn't see and she grasped his face between her two hands. "America. What's wrong?"

The question seemed to bring him out of his daze for suddenly his eyes started to water and he clenched his jaw and eyes shut. He bowed farther into her touch and she noticed his shoulders shaking. "He's dead."

"Who?" Rose's heart clenched at seeing him so startled and hurt, like the carpet had been pulled out from underneath him. She continued to hold his face until he looked up at her with grieving eyes.

"Kennedy. The President's been assassinated."

"Oh god," she whispered and could feel the shock of the news filling her, numbing her. It was Alfred's shaking though that stopped her from spiraling and she pulled him into a hug. "Hush. It's going to be okay." At that she felt her shoulder becoming damp and she rocked him slightly, pulling fingers through his hair in a soothing nature. Properness be damned, her nation was grieving, as was she, and she was not just going to walk away.

Rose shifted and pulled him closer, letting him cry and he looked up at the ceiling with more then a few tears falling from her own eyes. She continued to make the shushing noised and stoking his head, the same way her mama had done when she had found out Rodger had died. When he was asleep from the shock and exhaustion of grieving, she hummed the national anthem to herself.

* * *

_August 1963_

Life was slowly changing for Rose, especially with married life and all. Day by day, things began to shift away from the pretty frame they had once all fit in and she was left with looking at the pieces that seemed to become foreign. Things weren't pretty in the office. Jokes were harder to come by and many times they drowned in feeble laughter, everyone's minds on the stockpiles that were slowly growing in both Russia's and America's hands. There was nothing she could do to halt the progression of all the paranoia leaking into their bloodstreams, pulsing with each heartbeat.

At least Rose could turn a key into her house and curl into the arms of Frank when he wasn't in California. She had arms that held her, deep into the hours of night and morning and lips that whispered words of courage and reassuring nature onto her skin. The other nights she would be with the friendship of her neighbors, laughing until the fears melted out from her bones. But every dawn would lead to a turn of the office key and the shadowed trail into zones of heavy and dark fears.

The problems piled up faster then she could dismiss them.

Rose stared at her typewriter, looking at the cobalt embellishment on the edges and the worn bronze writing of the makers on top. Index finger drifting and brushing over the 'A' key, she turned clouded brown eyes to the covered window across the room. She had Frank and her friends to turn to and weather the storms with. Who did Alfred have? Who did he turn to when the world became too much and he needed another hand to guide him past the grey skies overhead? She didn't know. It wasn't Ivan– that she knew.

Thoughts twisting and writhing through her mind, the secretary didn't recognize the cool burst of air that followed the door opening. It wasn't until the door shut with a clack that she turned slightly to see Alfred walking…dragging to his desk. Pursed lips stayed clamped shut while her eyes studied his gait, wobbly as though he were about to fall to the floor and lay there forever. When he fell into his chair, hand covering his eyes from the light while he rested upon the desk, he seemed to melt into the seat. Alfred for once looked brittle, like he was going to break if even a single document fell in front of his eyes, or another nation turned up to talk about the problems that faced the world.

Silent, Rose crept up to the small alcove in the office, measuring out the dark aromatic grinds of coffee and shaking it into a pot. Once done and plugging the device in, she turned to wait for America to move, which he didn't do until the sounds of percolation filled the office and the scent of coffee caressed their noses.

"You look like you're mourning something Rose." Alfred muttered, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He gave a weak smile which she didn't have the heart to return.

"You look like you've worked yourself to death. You aren't even smiling anymore. Have you even been sleeping?"

He glanced up at her, endless summer blue eyes looking old and ancient. "Nothing to smile about lately." He shrugged, but left his glasses off. Rose watched warily, unused to seeing him without Texas on. It made him look young and vulnerable without them.

A pause, then, "Alfred. Please, you need to take a break. You're working yourself to death!"

"Wouldn't that be nice," he muttered.

He slumped and then slowly reached out to take a folder lying on the side of his desk, right next to the two binders he would have to go through by that afternoon. Darting forward, her hand leapt and clutched his wrist, halting him from grabbing the file. He didn't look at her, and he didn't break away– something that would be so simple for him.

"Alfred…no. You need to go."

His eyes met hers, challenging. "What does that mean?"

"That means you are leaving New York. You are not taking work. Go out to Montana or Arizona or Maine for goodness sake and relax! You will not be answering phone calls. No one will know where you went. You, Alfred Jones, need to escape and become a ghost. Just for a week."

He gave a wry smile. "You know I can't do that."

Rose stomped her foot, eyes narrowing. "Jones, don't you dare tell me what's possible. You get the hell out of here. It's for your health. You're killing yourself! You're acting strange! It's for your own good. I'm going to call and tell them you'll be gone for a week. "

A scrape of wood filled her ears and he was looming over her. "Don't."

It was one simple word and she backed away, looking at him in the rare flutter of fear. He must have noticed her expression for his face softened and he recoiled back into the chair.

"If you wont listen to me, then I'll find someone who will," she warned

He glanced at her, still without his glasses and she waited in silence, the coffee having gone silent and her spine remained straight. "And just who might that be?" When his answer was the ticking of a clock, he looked away to the shut office door. "You wouldn't get it Rose."

"You won't tell me!"

"Because you're just a human. You wouldn't get it!" His voice seemed to echo in the still room.

"Don't you dare raise your voice to me." She nearly added 'young man' too, but stopped herself by gripping her forearm.

He rolled his eyes and returned the glare. "Don't act like I'm younger than you."

"Don't act like you are and I wont!"

"I do not!" He folded his arms. "Besides, what are you going to do?"

Rose folded her arms, feeling more maternal than before. Her lips pursed together and she snapped out her ultimatum. "You call a break. All the nations need one. That or I'll make sure you do not get back into this office for at least a week!"

He rolled his eyes again, looking out at the window as he slumped further into his chair. "Right."

"That is enough!" She turned around and began to walk towards where their jackets were. "You're packing your bag and leaving. I don't care where, I will even take you to my mother's if I must– but you will relax." She turned around, grabbing her ruler and pointing it threateningly in his direction. "And just you remember this America. You'll never be too much for me."

She turned back to the coat rack, fussing with their jackets when she heard a snort of laughter behind her, turning back, she watched as Alfred leaned forward, putting his head in his hand and laughed.

She stopped in front of his desk, holding out his coat within arms reach and sighed. "Well, laughter is better than hearing I'm fired."

"Rose," he said looking up with tired blue eyes still without his glasses and looking so young, "I'm too scared to fire you."

* * *

OH HEY. WHERE ARE THE BEATLES YOU MAY SAY. to which I can only say ;A; I wish I knew.

ALSO. THE 60's WERE FREAKING MESSED UP. LIKE FO' REALZ. And we haven't gotten to the race riots, MLK, moon launching...oh god...

Notes: JFK assassination in 1963 was pretty much the same kind of shock for Americans as bad as Pearl Harbor or 9/11. It's one of those events where everyone remembered where they were and what they were doing. Of course, it's a huge conspiracy theory and is debated every so often.

The Cuban Missile Crisis. I could write a 100K+ story on that. It was a huge event in history and the closest we've ever gotten to nuclear war (that we know of). The US was at DEFCON 2 and war seemed imminent. From what I have read, the public's reaction varied, and I think that is for any event that is looming (Y2K?). Some people thought the world was going to end, others wanted to know why their coffee wasn't made correctly that morning. 14 days of thinking it was going to be war with the USSR. On October 27, a plane was actually shot down... so yeah, crazy scary things there.

Drugs. HAH. Can you tell I have no freaking clue? Some of the utterances were based off of the website Thathigh dot com because I don't smoke and I don't know anyone who does...so yes, fiction writing at its best. Also, the 60's was a time of huge social upheavil and drugs were highly widespread due to the negative effects of the government using scare tactics. Good job my government, propaganda at it's best :D

Uh...Rose and Alfred being bitchy towards each other. In my head, any nation dealing with a cold war, Vietnam, heavy internal conflict, and a space race would be crabby. And if you deal with a crabby dude everyday...you get crabby too. And Rose and Frank...yes, they are married, no they don't live with each other. I'm sure I'll be hearing comments about that.

Also. WHO ELSE IS SO FREAKING EXCITED FOR THE ROYAL WEDDING?

OKAY. NOW I WOULD LIKE TO THANK THE SUPER WICKED AWESOME FREAKING MAGICAL TIME TRAVELING SPACE LORDS WHO CAN USE FIRE AND AND RAINBOWS AND EXPLOSIONS AND STUFF TO SAVE THE WORLD AND UNIVERSE AND WHO ARE AS COOL AS BBC'S SHERLOCK. AND THEY ARE KNOWN AS:

**cross-over-lover232, Silvermoon of Forestclan, Axxi, Zapheil, Lumoa, Tea-PartyCrasher, and bellaciao :D**

.

SO. MAY I THANK THE WONDERFULNESS OF ONENIGHTSTANZAS FOR BEING A DEAR AND HELPING ME WITH SOME IDEAS. I BOW TO THEE. :D

And Reviews are always loved :) I hope you all stay well and happy!

Works Cited: Got my quotes and facts from _Trends: The Cuban Missile Crisis and U.S. Public Opinion_ by Tom W. Smith.


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